Left Behind 3-26-24

Milhoury, the 18 year old sister, does not have her travel papers as of today. Though she attempts to be brave, the anguish spills out as we text (thank the Lord for Google Translate!). It doesn't make sense to her why everyone else received papers, and I cannot explain it either. A certain number are selected each month. I cannot cajole or beg or be enough of a squeaky wheel in the bureaucracy of the giant cog of USCIS. It is what it is, and we have to wait. Easy for me to say.

She asks only that we not forget to write her if everyone else gets here without her. Tears spill out on my keyboard as I write this, realizing I can't even imagine what she must feel. 

And when I say we text, that is only when she can find electricity to charge her phone. She uses this sparingly. And I am such an American, I asked her to take photos of things and send me a video, not even realizing that I am asking a great deal - it is something that never crossed my mind of rationing that power. It is an odd thing to ponder how the simple fact of where I was born can make such a profound difference. Nothing to do with my own intelligence or worth.