The early morning sun coughed its way through a foggy blanket. A low shroud of engine smoke added a layer of sadness to the grim farewell. My daughter began to grip my hand tightly and raised her eyes up to mine pleading for some understanding. My heart felt like it would tear, knowing that I would not see her for a long, long time. As I gazed into her eyes I knew that what I was doing was right.
I was about to follow the path of so many more of my countrymen and women. For years now our small nation had been strangled by a corrupt government, leaving us little option but to find a new life in a faraway land. I faced a future watching my wife and daughter exist day to day, always fearing we would meet a frightening or painful end. Somehow I had to establish myself in the Promised Land across the wide, grey ocean and make a new home for my family.
The time to leave had come as the train's engine hissed to life and the engineer pulled hard on the whistle. Along the train siding wives and mothers wept and sobbed as their husbands and sons shouldered their packs. I was determined that my last moments in this country with my daughter were happy ones. I wanted her to hold a memory of her father that would sustain her through the months or years ahead.
She stood shivering in the misty morning as I crouched down in front of her. We all knew this time would come and my wife and I had told her stories of what our life would be like in the future in a place where we would not be afraid and not be hungry anymore. Somehow we had convinced ourselves that this was a happy time, but now, as the moments rushed by, my heart was full of despair and doubt.
I tried to bring a sparkle of fun to my eyes and a look of amazement as if something incredible had just happened. She opened her eyes widely, wondering what her father
was up to. I reached up and gently lifted my hat from my head to reveal a small paper
bird that I had made for her. Her eyes grinned back at me as I placed it in her hands.
She held the bird softly in the tips of her fingers as if it was a real bird. "Take good care of that bird," I managed to say without my voice faltering. And with that I touched her cheek one last time, wondering when I would see her again; then turned at last to my dear wife
to hold her in my arms.
