Article content continued

Others have left before us, going south to Bolivia like both of our parents, or north to Canada like one of my sisters. With no way of getting ahead here in Mexico, Maria and I decided we should leave for Canada.

We’ve spent over a year and a small fortune getting our paperwork in order — passports for everyone, USA transit visas, and visitor visas for Canada.

As spring approaches, we’re offered work as labourers on a Mennonite farm in Ontario. To help pay for the trip, we’ll sell everything we own. Not just for the money, but travelling light will also help us avoid suspicion at the Canadian border.

Everything shifts into high gear when I get the phone call — we need to be in southern Ontario by the end of April to help with the planting. Suddenly the move is only 10 days away.

All of the kids — four boys and five girls — pitch in. From our oldest, Susanna, who is 15, to the youngest, Eva, who just turned five. Everyone works hard to clear out the house.

Maria tells me she’s afraid of the changes, especially since none of us speak English. But we figure the kids will pick it up quickly.

She and I and the older children are stressed about the move, but the younger ones are mostly excited. It’s only when we start selling their toys that they realize… we’re not coming back.

In order to keep everyone fed, we hold onto the fridge and stove until the final day, easing them out the door an hour before we leave.

The van is already full but the boys bring more bags. I tell them, “We can only take what is absolutely necessary.” Maria has a good idea — she pulls out the best blankets and spreads them over the seats. That gives us room for one more box. It breaks my heart to choose a box of the kids’ shoes instead of the box of Eva’s dolls.