She, my mother, knew that mothers cannot do it on their own; that they need to form armies of shared parenting; that love has to be shared between the children of the earth; and that love we share is involved in the care of every human being.
I supported them, modestly, but I did make sure they had a good education in life and I feel proud of that, because I was, as people say, a single mother twice.
I remember my grandmother was strong. It was difficult for her to show her feelings since she had participated in the revolution. She had fifteen kids. Of those, most died of hunger and she was left with four.
We arrived in 1983 with four children and six suitcases.
We came legally with papers and everything but despite this, life was completely different. We had left friends, jobs, homes. I left my elderly mother. All this created enormous nostalgia for our community.
I wanted to see my daughter and she wanted to see me, it had been years since we’d seen each other. Seeing the mountains frightened me and I’d say it made me think about all the remains, the bones of all who had died, and I’d get a little scared but then I’d begin again.