Stone In A Slingshot


I’ve come to realize and accept that I mark the date of my husband’s deportation more deeply than our anniversary. He was detained April 26, and deported the following day.

Picasso and I were married in a civil ceremony. Perhaps I’d feel differently if we’d done a full-out wedding. Our civil ceremony was sweet and meaningful, and happened a little less than two weeks before my husband was deported.

But it’s the deportation date that I carry in my bones.

When April sneaks in the door, I know what’s going to happen at the end of the month. I want to notice and not notice at the same time. I try to turn my literal and figurative eye away from the facts:

Year 12 of my husband’s deportation. Year 2 of my husband and I living in separate countries. Week 2 of USCIS not being able to find my husband’s I-212 waiver application. 

Within all of the uncertainty, all of the waiting right now, I actually don’t feel depressed. But I do feel like the stone in a slingshot, stretched all the way back.

Waiting to be released.


6 thoughts on “Stone In A Slingshot

  1. Thinking of you today. Wishing your situation weren’t so. Finally we have some sunshine. It’s been a long month of snow and cold since we came back to MN.


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