At church on Sunday, I made the lady sitting next to me cry. She has a special place in my heart because she moved far away from her parents and siblings when she was a young, red sports car driving, chick TO MARRY A MINNESOTA BOY. I wanted to move far, far away when I was a young, city bus riding, chick.
When you're young, it's likely you can't look to the future: your spring brain doesn't yet know what it doesn't know. Youth is a risk taking season. It's energizing and summer lasts a really long time. I married a feller who took a youthful leap into adventure far away from home...these are my people.
And so, sitting in my pew there four rows from the back, I observed a brother (who is now local) smile with his whole face when his sister walked up the aisle towards him. She lives 6 or 7 or 8 hours away, I think, and it was just lovely to see these siblings embrace. Then. Hot tears filled my eyes so that when I stopped being nosey and looked back to my song book, the words were swimming. Tears for the woman next to me who doesn't get to embrace her brother on a (somewhat random) Sunday morning. Over-seas is really far away when you'd do well with a hug from your brother.
And because sometimes my release involves an other, I had to tell her my thoughts. And that I had absorbed some of the sting she has coped with and sorted in her many years in her "new" home.
My tears were for you. I see you. I recognize that you have sacrificed. Immigrants are fascinating folks. You are super rad. (Also I'm sorry for the unplanned cry session. 😬)