Pretty in Pink
She is pretty in pink. And her father is beaming as he holds her. When I ask if Dad and babe will be “crossing”, he shakes his head emphatically, “No, no.” He is getting ready to journey home to Sinaloa. They have bus tickets. I look around the crowded sidewalk for this beautiful child’s mother, but it appears that it is just Dad and “Leslie”, this baby’s name.
“Leslie?”, I repeat?
Pretty in Pink
“Yes…this is Leslie”. She is well-nourished, she is 3 months old, and she makes good eye-contact with us. Baby Leslie is immediately swept up in the arms of my Samaritan colleague. We both coo and fuss over this child, and she responds with a shy little smile.
And I can’t help but think that this is a very American sounding name.
“Leslie.”
I ask about her mother—where is she? Dad shrugs—his facial expression changes abruptly. He does not know. Baby Leslie begins to fuss and Dad comforts her quickly and expertly. He asks if we have baby clothes. Maybe a blanket? And shoes—his shoes are worn and without shoelaces.
new shoes, new life
Thankfully today we have a lot of baby and children’s clothes. And shoes. And clean new socks. Dad finds what he needs inside the shelter, and I watch them walk up the street with clothes, immigration documents, and a determined step.
And I wonder the rest of the day about baby Leslie’s mother.
And I wonder about the long trip to Sinaloa, one of the most dangerous states in Mexico.
And I hope Leslie and her Dad are not stepping from the frying pan into the fire.
Hello there! I’m a new follower sent via your daughter, whose blog I’ve been following ever since I began training to be a jewelry designer. I’ve read several of your entries, and your writing is phenomenal. The work your doing is amazing and humbling to read. I have a special place in my heart for Mexican migrant workers– my mother was one, and she comes from a long line of hard workers. I love what you are doing. (And I, too, hope baby Leslie and her padre are doing well). Sending blessings.
Is it really true that a bus trip on that “long trip” down to Sinaloa is “dangerous?”
As Peg claims?
Well, I’m not so sure.
I think that, because the papa and his sweet baby daughter will most likely enjoy traveling in near luxury in a late-model Mercedes or Volvo bus, “hecho en Méjico.”
Truth is, Peg, that their bus trip to Sinaloa will be a far more comfortable and safer trip than such a bus trip could ever be here in the States.
(That’s because almost all of Mexican bus lines use buses that put Greyhound to shame.)
As for Sinaloa being “one of the most dangerous states in Mexico?”
I must disagree, Peg, because I’ve traveled there, many times, to visit a family that lives in Guasave, Sinaloa.
Not once have they, nor I, ever been caught looking over our shoulders, expecting to be gunned down in a shoot-out between rival drug gangs.
In fact, Peg, the Sinaloa they live in is one of the most tranquil, most beautiful hunks of the universe I may have ever seen.
Might be time for you, Peg, to take a bus trip into Mexico?
Maybe all the way down to Sinaloa?