Cuando Sali de Cuba: Part 2

Y waited at the front porch the remainder of the day for her husband (let’s call him T) to return home from work. When T arrived home, he knew something was up. You see, when you live in a small town where the most popular pastime is to sit on the porch, information gets around quickly. T had been informed that a telegram had been delivered to his home and that his wife had burst out in tears when she opened the telegram. Y sat down with her husband and told him about how the neighbor had called her asking her to arrange for K to translate a letter. How K had translated the letter and realized the opportunity they had been given. She explained to him how they filled out the applications for everyone in the family. She then paused and told him that the application that had been selected in the lottery was his. 

Fear was the first emotion that flooded T. Both of my parents grew up poor and their families were poor before communism and remained poor afterwards. My parents had worked hard to carve out a good life for themselves given the circumstances. Getting approved for a visa wasn’t the end all. One still had to pay for their passport, plane tickets and the actual visa they got the permission to apply for. Once the news had spread that T was granted the privilege to apply for a visa, he was fired from his job. Y and T had to sell all their possessions to be able to afford the voyage of T coming to America. 

The only thing standing in their way was a legal guardian. I would explain what a legal guardian is in this sense. We almost didn’t come to America because we had no one to receive us. Y had no contact with her mother’s side of the family that had fled to Miami. Y’s mother was adopted and had lost communication with her adopted family. T had an aunt that had fled to Miami, but she declined to be our legal guardian. Soon the news of how Y had applied for the visa without informing her husband and now rumors that they can’t leave was spreading throughout the town. Y and T were both fired from their jobs and had two small children, things were not going great. They had been given the opportunity of a lifetime, yet it felt like a curse. 

That’s when an old high school friend of T’s grandmother heard the town gossip. She showed up on our porch and asked T to call her grandson, and tell him the story. 

Imagine getting a random phone call from some guy you knew in high school almost 15 years ago asking you to be his legal guardian, receive him in America, give him a place to crash while he got his work permit and was able to get a place of his own. Oh, and financially support him until he was able to repay you. 

Y waited at the front porch the remainder of the day for her husband (let’s call him T) to return home from work. When T arrived home, he knew something was up. You see, when you live in a small town where the most popular pastime is to sit on the porch, information gets around quickly. T had been informed that a telegram had been delivered to his home and that his wife had burst out in tears when she opened the telegram. Y sat down with her husband and told him about how the neighbor had called her asking her to arrange for K to translate a letter. How K had translated the letter and realized the opportunity they had been given. She explained to him how they filled out the applications for everyone in the family. She then paused and told him that the application that had been selected in the lottery was his. 

Fear was the first emotion that flooded T. Both of my parents grew up poor and their families were poor before communism and remained poor afterwards. My parents had worked hard to carve out a good life for themselves given the circumstances. Getting approved for a visa wasn’t the end all. One still had to pay for their passport, plane tickets and the actual visa they got the permission to apply for. Once the news had spread that T was granted the privilege to apply for a visa, he was fired from his job. Y and T had to sell all their possessions to be able to afford the voyage of T coming to America. 

The only thing standing in their way was a legal guardian. I would explain what a legal guardian is in this sense. We almost didn’t come to America because we had no one to receive us. Y had no contact with her mother’s side of the family that had fled to Miami. Y’s mother was adopted and had lost communication with her adopted family. T had an aunt that had fled to Miami, but she declined to be our legal guardian. Soon the news of how Y had applied for the visa without informing her husband and now rumors that they can’t leave was spreading throughout the town. Y and T were both fired from their jobs and had two small children, things were not going great. They had been given the opportunity of a lifetime, yet it felt like a curse. 

That’s when an old high school friend of T’s grandmother heard the town gossip. She showed up on our porch and asked T to call her grandson, and tell him the story. 

Imagine getting a random phone call from some guy you knew in high school almost 15 years ago asking you to be his legal guardian, receive him in America, give him a place to crash while he got his work permit and was able to get a place of his own. Oh, and financially support him until he was able to repay you. 

Part 3 coming soon


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