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Published: January 27th 2015
As told through my daughter:
I was too young to see the obvious differences in our lives, but old enough to know how I felt about her. I loved when my mom brought me to play at Janeth's house. Her house was so different than mine and that made it exciting and fun; an adventure.
Janeth's house always smelled so good. Her mom would be busy in the kitchen making tortillas, mashing avocados, slicing onions and cilantro. It was the most delicious Mexican food I'd ever eaten. I loved her tiny bedroom, just big enough to hold her bed, dresser and a window with a sun-catcher of a butterfly dangling. There was a hole in the wall, big enough to peek my head through and see into her brother's room. Janeth and her brother would shout rapid-fire Spanish at each other through that hole. How fun to be able to pester her brother, I thought.
I was only eight but I knew I loved Janeth. I'd heard girls at school talk about having a best friend. “Janeth must be
my best friend,” I thought. “I know she's my favorite friend...so that must make her my
best friend.” It
felt good having a best friend.
I never imaged our days of helado (ice cream), nadando (swimming) or her mom's homemade tortillas would ever end. But it did. And for the first time I felt what must be...heart break.
Janeth told me she had to go back to Mexico. Her grandmother in Mazatlan was very ill and her parents were the only ones who could care for her. “Well, once your abuela is better, then you can come back, right?” I asked.
My best friend's eyes got all red and teary. “No, Indy, I can't come back,” she told me. “Once we cross the border into Mexico, we have to stay. My parents...you see...we're not suppose to be here, in the United States. Mis padres (my parents) snuck across the border a long time ago, before I was born, so they could live in America. It was dangerous, but they did it. They wanted a better life for their kids. But once we go back, we have to stay. We can't come back.”
A few weeks later, my friend was gone. My best friend. We promised we'd keep in touch. We'd write letters, Skype on the
computer, send emails. But Janeth disappeared. I'd write letters and get no response. I'd send emails and wait for a reply. Nothing.
I felt a hollowness in my heart. I had made a friend that couldn't be replaced. It was as if she'd evaporated off the face of the planet.
Three years went by. Only silence from my friend. I would feel a twinge of pain when I thought of her, heard a song that we both liked, or worse yet, heard news that life in Mexico was getting very dangerous.
One day, mom picked me up from school to go to the dentist. After the appointment, she asked me a very important question.
“How would you like to go to Mexico?” she asked. My heart rose. I always loved going on trips. Then I remembered. I had a best friend in Mexico. But I didn't say anything. Just waited for mom to finish her sentence. “I've done some searching, Indy, and I am pretty sure I've found Janeth! She lives in Mazatlan and we might go to see her. I mean, only if you
want to.” It took me a moment to process what my
mom had just said. Finally, I stated the obvious. “Yes!” Of course I wanted to see my long-lost best friend again after being apart for three and a half years. Then I thought of the worst. “But what if she doesn't want to see me? What if she doesn't remember me? What if--”
Mom cut me off. “What if? What if? What do you mean
if she doesn't remember me? Of course she'll remember you! You were best friends! She let you cry in her lap when you were scared on the Ferris Wheel in Navy Pier!” Then came the tears. I started crying, not caring that my brother was in the back seat, I just hoped that when we visited her, she would remember me.
I arrived with my mother in Mazatlan in November 2014, exactly three years since I'd last seen my friend.
Janeth stood there, at the airport arrivals gate, with her parents. When we caught sight of each other, we smiled then awkwardly starred at the floor. It wasn't the tearful embrace I was expecting. I felt overwhelmed. I'd waited so long to see my friend but when I finally had her in
front of me, I fell silent. She looked different. I recognized her, of course, but she was taller, older. It wasn't long though, and the familiar warmth of her company melted away any apprehension I felt.
Janeth was able to show me her new home; a sturdy house her dad had built himself, brick by brick. She had a chicken coup right outside her bedroom with a playful rooster that freely ran through the kitchen. Her mom made tortillas and smashed avocado and sliced onion and cilantro just like she had in the States.
She took me on long walks on dusty roads to see her school, her friends and her favorite place to buy a cold Coke. Once again we were “nadando” (swimming) and eating “helado” (ice cream) together. At night we stayed up laughing, watching Disney movies in Spanish or making fun of our brothers. It was as if nothing had changed. Janeth was the same girl I met all those years ago.
After a week in Mexico I had to return to home. It was painful leaving my friend. We're separated by laws and borders but I knew it wasn't the end. In Janeth
I had found real enduring friendship, a kindred spirit, a soul sister so they say.
My mom says true friends are hard to find, so when you find one, consider yourself very fortunate. And never let go.
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Edwina Finet
non-member comment
Heartwarming Lessons
I'm so glad that India got to reunite with her friend. She is learning many of life's hardest lessons at an early age, but doing so and having this experience will serve her well later on. It's also a lesson on what a committed, caring parent can accomplish --- where there is a will, there is a way! Best wishes to a wonderful family (or should I say two wonderful families?) Edwina