SUBMITTED ON BEHALF OF SERENA ZHOU
Mama:
Everything seems so far from this place. Uncertainty pulsates from the building’s very foundation, it's cold breath rattling our bones even as we sleep. The halls glower over me with every step, their mechanical eyes swiveling, watching, waiting. There is nothing but emptiness beyond these walls and far less within.
I yearn for warmth, mama. I crave the softness of my bed, the comfort of your food, the gentle touch of all those I left behind. They do not speak of gentleness in this place. They do not know of humanity. I will not burden you with the specifics of my sufferings, for they are so atrocious that the mere mention of them would constitute a violation in and of itself. Just know that you are not to blame; this was my choice just as much as yours. The knowledge of your joy is all that sustains me through my pain. Your happiness is my fuel.
I am not wanted. My country thinks me a burden; this new one an infestation. It is not the role of a human being to choose between being a burden and an infestation. My one hope would be that you, mama, have still preserved my dignity within our home, yet I cannot help but wonder if I have been gone too long for me to even call it ours anymore. If Mexico is no longer the same place I once belonged, then where? I find myself trapped between a hostile superpower, a foreign home, and an empty in-between. Show me the way out, for I do not know how long I can remain in such a state. You are the only constant in my life.
Tell the family I love them, and that I shall keep them in my thoughts and prayers.
Love,
Your Son.
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