♫ Libre soy...♫

Home.

Twenty-six days later (twenty-two of which were "on the ground" and four of which were on the road) and I am home.  I am determined to carry my gratitude for my own good fortune into the days, weeks - years - to come.

I had the good fortune to work closely with about forty people this month, all of whom left their comfortable homes and families to spend a frenetic week trying to help the detainees make progress toward establishing their new homes.  Saying "good-bye" to them at the end of each week was hard; so amazing how close people can grow through working together toward a common goal.

The women and children detained in Artesia left their homes because things were terribly wrong there.  Many were victims of horrible domestic abuse; others were victims of gang extortion and violence.  All wanted freedom and a better home for their children.

A few of our clients actually said they were content (for the moment) to call the detention facility "home," because, despite the awful food, viruses running rampant, lack of school and restrictions on their movement, they had escaped (for the time being) that from which they were running.  While they want to be released on bond, make new homes with their loved ones in the U.S. and pursue their asylum claims from outside the facility, they were sincerely grateful for the temporary home in which they are now living.  Imagine - grateful to be detained there.

The stories will haunt me forever, though in a way that can't compare with the trauma to the women who lived them.  The faces of the women and children are fresh in my memory, and I will strive to hold onto them - we were not allowed to take photographs.

One memory that brings me to tears is of the children singing along with the theme we all know from Frozen:  Let it Go!  (I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the movie ran in the background several times per day, so I've heard it at least 50 times over the past weeks.)  In the Spanish version, the familiar phrase in the chorus is "Libre soy...." which means "I am free...."  One particularly difficult day, amidst mothers' stories of horrible violence, several of the children sang along with the video:  "I am free!"  We, behind the wall where only the attorneys could be, sobbed together.

Perhaps they are free - free from the horrors of their daily lives in their home countries, and perhaps they will experience even more freedom, if they are allowed to pay a bond and leave the facility.  And, if all goes well, they will win their asylum cases and be free to build a new life in the U.S., as our own parents and ancestors did.  But, many of them will not remain free.  They will not be able to post bond, so they will stay detained.  Sadly, some will not win their asylum cases, and will be sent back to the horrors they fear.

Home.  Freedom.  I hope for both of these for every family.