Going Home

We’re stuck. It’s almost midnight, and Mexico City’s airport doesn’t have enough gates to accommodate all the flights that are landing. So we wait: a half-hour in an airliner at a standstill, then another half-hour in a small bus, then an hour in line at customs. By daybreak, there is a chill in the air. But it doesn’t matter. I’m finally home, for a little while — to see my mother, my siblings and the city I left almost 33 years ago.