Wow. I could not put
this down. This is the story of two that
represent the many.
Carla lives in
Tegucigalpa , Honduras .
When the story begins, she is eleven years old, living with her grandmother and
twin toddler brothers. Carla’s mother “made
it” to the U.S.
to find work so she could send money back home. Carla begins telling her story “My
mother left when I was five years old.”
Times are very hard, there is little money, poor housing, no plumbing, no schools, gangs,
crime a constant fight for survival.
There are two ways to escape. Try
to make a run for the border or sniff glue.
After Carla’s
grandmother dies, desperation turns to desperate acts and Carla and Junior, her
remaining brother, make a run for the U.S.
border to get to their mother in Austin , Texas .
This story is
told in alternating chapters: Alice .
Carla. Alice . Carla. Alice .
We can almost understand and identify with Alice’s struggle. We can see ourselves in her somewhere. We
might even know her. But not so Carla’s
story. We see on the news the story of
children being sent to or escaping to the U.S.
to live and try to find work. Carloads
of them. Truckloads. Frightened, hungry, drifting, lost
children. But do we really know what the
journey of these mere children, is?
I wasn’t
sure how, if or when the lives of Alice and Carla were going to intersect. The author probably fed clues but I was so
engrossed in Carla’s story I wasn’t looking for clues, I was absorbing the
story.
We lead very sheltered lives.
Oh Denice we sure do! That is why reading does expand our horizons and empathy, if we are open to it. But at the same time, all our stories are interesting, all our everydays have some experience to share. We can all inspire.
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