At the border

The mother and child walked north, avoiding the highway on which commerce surged and menace traveled.

She left her neighborhood in the south because of poverty, domestic violence and eviction. Homeless in mean streets infested with gang violence and drugs, she heard that the country to the north was safer, more compassionate, unlike the hostile land she was leaving behind.

Perhaps the government in the north was less corrupt, money less a measure of a person’s value and honest labor fairly compensated, fewer accusatory glances, and no perplexing rules and costs so that her diabetic child could receive care for her chronic suffering.

The mother knew that they would be entering the country to the north illegally, for she had no documentation of her naturalized citizenship in the south or of legal custody of her child and no passport. She prayed her willingness to work would suffice, yet she also knew that their deportation would imperil their lives.

Their exodus neared its end as they forded the river. They crossed over to this promised land to be intercepted by a mounted patrol.

The Canadian border constable asked the terrified woman her citizenship status. She responded, “The United States.”

John B. Hagney

Spokane