I left my county seven years ago in search of a better life for me and my family. At that point, my family was my mother, my four siblings, and my son. My father had died a few years before my son was born, so he did not get to know his grandson.
     Francisco was born from a relationship I had with one of our neighbor’s daughters who was very young. She didn’t want to raise him because he stood in her way and she couldn’t meet guys. Six months after my son’s birth, she came to my house and left him there. Since I was living with my mother and siblings, they agreed to help raise my son.
     After three years, my son grew up, stole everybody’s heart, began to talk, and learned to walk. My love for him was like being in love for the first time. I felt that I wouldn’t ever be able to live without him.
     But the day came when our destiny separated us and took us two different ways. That day, I was to leave my country and live far away without my family, but especially without my son. I felt a deeply painful feeling in my heart to leave without my son, but there wasn’t anything I could do other than leave and start a new life alone.
     However, the way our destiny began to change began a long time before when my sister Rosa had left El Salvador with her family to live in the United States. Five years later, Rosa sent $4,000 to my brother to come to the United States with one of my cousins. But the person who made the final decision was my aunt, my cousin’s mother. I don’t know why she picked me to come to the United States with my cousin and not my older brother who had been waiting a long time to hear from my sister.
     I didn’t know my sister’s plans nor my aunt’s until I arrived in the United States and met my sister at the airport. There she told me for whom the trip was intended and I felt very bad. When she told me, I told her that I could go back, but she said, “You are already here anyway.”
     As time went by, I managed to pay my sister the money she had sent, and helped my brother as well. But my aunt, I didn’t talk to her for years because she didn’t care about my brother’s feelings. Anyway, this was how our separation began.
     The day I had to say goodbye was Sunday. My mother was in the kitchen making dinner, pretending nothing was happening. My sister was in the living room caring for my son in her arms. My brothers were there as well, but one of them got very sad to see me leave and began to shake. He shook for nearly five minutes and fell to the ground. To this day, I don’t know what happened to him that day, but after that, nothing like that ever happened again.
     After everything was over with my brother, I began saying my goodbyes once more. My mother hugged me and gave me her blessings while she cried. But my son didn’t want to say goodbye because he knew that I was going somewhere and he wanted to come with me. This was the hardest thing for me because I didn’t know how to tell him that I was going faraway and that we wouldn’t see each other for a long time, or perhaps ever again. Instead of telling the truth, I told him that I was going to the village and I would bring him some ice cream on my way back. This was how I managed to make my son stay in my sister’s arms. I felt terribly bad that I had to lie to my son in order to go and find us a better future, but that was the only thing I could do. That was the last time we saw each other until seven years later. Before I walked out of the door, I kissed my son goodbye and left with a broken heart.
     Seven years later, my son was approved for political asylum in the United States and I managed to finally bring him here. Two years after his political asylum approval, my son arrived at the San Francisco airport with a blue backpack and no suitcase.
     That day, three friends and I waited in the airport for nearly one hour before Francisco appeared in the security screen. We saw people beginning to come out and I began to feel nervous because I thought that I wasn’t going to be able to recognize him. But when he appeared on the security screen, my heart began to beat very fast. Then I knew feeling nervous was not important at the moment because, even though we had not seen each other for many years, his face was still the same as I remembered. But his body had grown quite a lot.
     As he made his way out to the door into the waiting area, I ran towards him and picked him up into my arms. Then I held him very tight to my chest for the longest time and felt like an explosion of love within me came out and was passed on to him. As I held him in my arms, I forgot all about my friends and everything else around me. About three minutes later, I realized I had to sign some documents in order to take my son home. While I was signing the documents, I saw my son out of the corner of my eye starring at me. When I looked at him and smiled, he brought his face down, pretending he wasn't looking at me, and he smiled sweetly.