My memory takes a peek at those two
small children, my children . . .
In a strange country, not knowing the
language, having no friends and missing
their papi. Sometimes, in the middle of
the night, I find myself actually quaking
at the audacity I had to ask, nay 'make' my
own children go through this experience.
New school, bus rides, language learning
and I can't even begin to imagine the fear
they must have felt at every turn. Now,
think of that awesome word COURAGE,
and I will show you courage!
'Tis beyond the pale what these two kids
endured due to their mother's caprice to
return 'home'. And no, we weren't home.
We had left our home behind. Once in a
while, my little girl would catch me in
tears. She would ask, "Estás triste mami?"
My God, out of the mouth of babes . . .
what right did I even have to be sad when
my own children lived from one clueless
moment to the next?! ~!@#$%^&*()_+
So, here's to real courage, the courage
that must be dredged up from the bottom
of the soul when faced with scenarios
not of your own making. I bow to my
children; I kneel at their feet. I have
never, ever witnessed courage such as
they displayed . . . ever so young . . .
To be continued . . .
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