Wife of a Mexican

      Down to the last week. I have tasted this in the past, and I know what is about to happen. Ricardo and I spent the majority of the first couple weeks finding the safe areas within each other to feel secure enough to open up. We have wonders of each others emotions, if during the time apart we talked to another once too often to fill in that need for someone to be attracted, to feel the sexual side to our souls that we were forced to bury for months at a time, in other words jealousy to everyone and anyone that was there when we could not be... we finally fought for the first time which relieved us of the tip-toe small talk that we encountered with each nightly call. Never could we argue on the phone about anything, for who could be separated for such long durations, with that one call before bed holding such meaning, only to be tossing and turning after an argument and to wake up the next day with extreme anxiety. The result would be facing the children with a smile and the anticipation of that next nightly call even more than usual, with apprehension as to what to expect. It is way too intense, and better to play it safe with "nice" calls every night, partial relationship calls, month after month. It is the life of a wife of a Mexican...
       Our visit started in anxiety but quickly moved on to everyday family life. Once we found that safe spot in where we relate comfortably, not just comfortably, but with appreciation for the other actually being present. To feel the right arm that was previously missing to suddenly reappear of course is a relief in itself, but to actually have him in front of me playing with the kids, and the kids responding as a natural, no time ever passed, bond... or to hear his noises, coughing, sneezing, laughing, anything, in the next room, again in itself a blessing. I washed his clothes, scrubbed his back, shaved his bald head, reorganized the house... we actually lived like a family - even if only briefly. This house is my safe spot. When in labor with our son, a million miles away from here, my house was my happy place to meditate myself into my calm during contractions. The spot of focus was the stairway... why, I do not have any idea. When I am here, it is like the air in my lungs exhales... ahhhhh... I can dream of a bunch of different remodeling directions that I could take this home, but instead, I wait to see our immigration issues unfold. We have no idea of our future, only in that we will be married in it and that we have children.
      This last part of our relationship renewal opportunity vacation is full of deep stares with tears with no words. We develop a sense of the other while standing close, as if in appreciation to this moment being gone soon, trying to hold on to that precious presence of someone that you love that you know will be gone the day after the next, when I will one day catch my breath and look around only to realize that its over, that it was all in memory, my husband and family are now only something that I can dream of, not hold or touch, just like an ironic joke. I am at the point now where I am planning my remaining weeks of school work around the last few days being computer free, because I know that I will be absorbed in our last few moments. I have figured it all out. I plan to complete some of that last week's work when I get back to Pennsylvania, to the big unorganized desk that I have been sitting at since last October, fighting immigration wars with words to myself and new friends, learning, growing, watching and listening.
       Today an interesting article with Obama once again silver tongue to us that are desperate for relief and reform, desperate for family unity,  and desperate for our children to be reissued their rights. They deserve to feel the security that is owed to them from their country. I read with hope and disbelief. I personally doubt the total turn over that is needed, or that the fact that many of us need so much more than the basic acknowledgement. By all standards this is certainly a first in this immigration game. Still,  we are waiting for an actual intelligent, meaningful statement that will give us back what was taken... even if that will not be possible, an attempt or better yet some type of recouping of our lives with rewards that can surely only ever be in a fantasy for sure. Still, how can your replace the time or years taken, it cannot be done.
       In this article those which are listed to benefit from his new idea are those categories that should in their new thought process be spared the deportation, as if the sudden enlightenment and official mention of, has somehow redeemed their efforts to destroy us. In the end, if ever to be an end, we would be bound to saying thank you for those who donated their lives for the fight in this war and if we ever won, as if they were the casualities that deserve more. We will surely never see anything of tribute or trophey but only that of a memory in the minds of those who struggled along side with them. The countless and endless petitions and articles of women, infants and children being imprisoned in Texas detention centers, to protests by angry Dream Act eligible youth that have lived in the USA since before they could walk, to the father that was killed or the father that killed himself with ICE wearing their blood, to the thousands of American children left in state custody, parent less, because they were American and their undocumented parents were taken from them and deported. Lets not forget the elderly man that died in custody after decades of living as a barber in the USA, or the gay couple of lawyer and professional salsa dancer that brought media to their plight, to the close friends in our own circle that cry, and laugh with each other late night while wondering what will happen to their lives in the end - all of us causalities, some of us loosing more than we could ever be repaid. And what dedication will be made in the honor to those who have already lost? I guess that we can simply be chalked up to one description made clear as Obama states in what the new guidelines hold as, "the policy change is meant as a framework to help prevent non-priority undocumented immigrants from 'clogging the system'" as if we are all nothing more than a bunch of damn hair balls. I resent that. We are some of the most patriotic intelligent people that this country has to offer.
       Perhaps this is a start. Maybe we will be witness to more talk and more articles in the future, as has always been expected. There of course are too many of us to ignore. I am in hopes for our pain to be remembered as that of valiant heros, fighting a war of immoral injustice with our computers, with our words, with our calls to the politicians and letters that get lame responses. I wonder if ALEC members will ever feel the guilt that their personal collection of pennies are laced with our dried blood in the engravings of the Lincoln Memorial on their tails. I am going to have to say no, that they will not.
     The next generation will be our children, those who have been through this from the position of their young tiny height looking up at the adults with curious eyes. At that moment we will be redeemed in some way. The plight of our days, our months apart. As we wrap up our family visit, my son has now fully recovered from the anger that he faced. At three and a half years, a boy does not understand his father's voice on the phone that says I love you, it is not my decision to not be there with you. No instead the waiting turns into unhealthy emotional issues. We are arriving to that place once more with a fresh batch of love to tied us all over for awhile, how long, no one knows. But the life of a wife of a Mexican now a days is only to be appreciated from her own kind... those who walk in the same shoes, as fellow Americans.