the train. the only time I went was when abuelo died. Mama never wanted to go out of town. and so I forgot what it felt. the rustling of the train tracks.
the adrenaline when the train starts. i held the cold metal pole. "did I make the right choice?" that question was all I could think of.
numb. numb numb numb. i wasn't crying, nor happy, nor scared. I didn't feel anything. I never felt like this before.
it hit me. I don't have Papa's contact. I don't have a passport. I don't have a birth certificate or ID. Mama was an illegal immigrant.
———————-. anx·ious experiencing worry, unease, or nervousness, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome. ———————— I was feeling very, very anxious. I never had independence. I was always with my mother.
what if they found out I was illegally here? will Papa rescue me? will Mama rescue me?
If I ask the authorities where my Papa is, they will know my identity.
I am feeling something far more than anxious. I bo longer felt numb. I am scared. Terrified.
Suddenly, a hand offered a coffee. I looked to see a girl offering me. She had a pretty smile, round glasses. "are you okay?" she asked
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"no. I am not" was the truth. instead I told her. "yes, I am fine"
