“If you go on the World Race, there’s a possibility that you will be deported.”
My mom’s words rang in my ears long after our phone call had ended.
My mind flashed back to my childhood when, years ago, my cousins were deported. I didn’t understand it then, just that they went to the Bahamas for the day and were not coming back. I remember helping to pack their whole house into boxes which grew dusty after months and then years in storage and I remember, finally, the thrill of going through their belongings, of being told I was allowed to have whatever I wanted. I slept in my cousin’s racecar bed for weeks. Eventually, the excitement of having their toys wore off. They were no replacement for the weekly trips to McDonald’s with our moms and playing alone in the ball pit just didn’t cut it.
They never did come back.
Although most would never know it by my accent, I am not a US citizen. In the past this has never hindered me much. Sure, I can’t vote, or join the Peace Corps (much to my parents’ relief), but otherwise my life is pretty ordinary. I have a social security card just like everyone else. I can work, rent an apartment or buy a car. In fact, I’ve blended in so well for the past 7 years that I forgot one little factor when applying for this trip: I cannot leave the country for more than six months.
If deported, it could be more than 10 YEARS before I would be allowed to return and still, I would be without a greencard. Goodness! What a big risk to take. It was definitely not something I planned on, but my mom is right: it’s a very real possibility.
So what happens now? I guess, I pray. I pray and I appeal to the immigration department.
