Return to Sender (32 page)

“Oh, Joseph.” Grandma sighed. But it was too late for a disagreement, even a mild one.

“I've got an even better idea,” Mr. Rossetti went on, encouraged by Grandma's giving in. “How about Stars and Stripes Farm?” Even though I couldn't see his face real clear, I knew
Mr. Rossetti was grinning. “That's our name for our flag in the United States,” he told Abuelote and Abuelito. They nodded—
“Sí, sí, s
i”
—even though I don't think they had a clue what Mr. Rossetti was talking about.

I thought about what Mr. Rossetti had said, and I kind of respected his opinion. You do have a great country, Tyler, why else would so many of us want to go there? But I got to thinking about all the things Mr. Bicknell had said, about us having to be not just patriots of a country, but citizens of the planet. So why not give the farm a name for the things that connect us?

“Stars and Swallows Farm,” I said, trying the name out loud.
“Estrellas y Golondrinas.”

That name sounded perfect right then. But you know how you said your own family will agree on a name and then a few days later think better of it? Well, this morning, Stars and Swallows Farm sounds like a lot of words. So now I'm not real sure what to suggest, Tyler. Maybe your farm is just too special for words—and that's why your family has had a hard time naming it?

Too bad Mr. Bicknell won't be your teacher anymore. He would come up with a creative assignment for everyone in class to suggest a name and write a story why. Then, like in a democracy, everyone would vote.

Last night, I didn't take a vote, but everyone
seemed to like Stars and Swallows. We sat quietly savoring the name like it was a taste in our mouths. Stars and Swallows.
Estrellas y Golondrinas.

“In a few weeks, they'll be back,” Abuelote broke the silence. It took me a second to realize what he was talking about.

“We wait and wait,” Abuelota agreed. “And our hearts are not complete till we see those
golondrinas
coming back, filling the sky.”

“As numerous as stars,” Abuelito observed.

I knew then how much my grandparents had missed us, how a part of their very own hearts had been missing until now. How we were the ones they had been waiting for.

We all grew quiet again, looking up, feeling the specialness of this night before we would fly apart.

Tu amiga, para siempre
and forever, too,

Mari

Dear readers,
queridos lectores,

Although this is a made-up story, the situation it de-scribes is true. Many farmers from Mexico and Central America are forced to come north to work because they can no longer earn a living from farming. They make the danger-ous border crossing with smugglers called
coyotes,
who charge them a lot of money and often take advantage. To keep out these migrants, a wall is being built between Mexico and the United States. National troops have been sent down to pa-trol the border. We are treating these neighbor countries and migrant helpers as if they were our worst enemies.

These migrant workers often bring their families with them. Their children, born in Mexico, are also considered “illegal aliens.” But those born here are United States citizens. These families live in fear of deportation and separation from each other.

In 2006, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE, or
la migra,
as the migrants call these agents) raided many workplaces. This dragnet was known as Operation Return to Sender, after the phrase stamped by the United States Postal Service on letters that don't have enough postage or are
incorrectly addressed. Workers without legal papers were taken away on the spot, leaving behind children who were cared for by friends, relatives, or older siblings. These children are the casualties of their parents’ decision to leave behind their homelands in order to survive.

Caught in a similar struggle in this country are the children of American farmers who are finding it increasingly difficult to continue farming. They cannot find affordable help and have to resort to hiring farmers displaced from other lands. The children of both are seeing the end of a way of life and the loss of their ancestral homes.

When a Mexican dies far away from home, a song known as
“La Golondrina”
(“The Swallow”) is sung at the funeral. The song tells of a swallow that makes the yearly migration from Mexico to
El Norte
during the late spring and returns south in autumn. But sometimes that swallow gets lost in the cold winds and never finds its way back. This is the fear of those who leave home as well as those who stay behind awaiting their return. The song reminds us that we all need a safe and happy place where we belong.

With hope and
esperanza,

Julia Alvarez

A word about the Spanish in English

Una palabra sobre el español en inglés

I know it must seem strange that Mari is often writing her letters in Spanish but you are reading them in English.

Just the same, when she reports on a conversation with her father or mother or uncles, these relatives are speaking in Spanish, but wait a minute! You are hearing them in English.

This is the wonderful thing about stories. The impossible is possible. You can read a story about a samurai warrior or two Italian teenagers with warring families or a Danish prince whose father has died mysteriously and be totally at home in their world even though you don't speak a word of their language. It's why I love stories. There are no borders. Like swallows, like stars, you don't have to stop where one country or language or race or religion or gender or time period ends and another begins.

But just in case you wondered, one of the ways we recognize that a word belongs in another language,
otra lengua,
is that we put it in italics. So, whenever one of Mari's letters begins in italics with a Spanish date
(15 agosto 2005)
and salutation
(Queridísima Mamá
) or she writes
México
with an accent, you will know that it is actually being written in Spanish. But don't worry. Because this is a story, you can understand her Spanish as if you were a native speaker.

Also, whenever I use a Spanish word, I always give you its
English translation or make sure you understand what the word means in that scene. I wouldn't want you to feel left out just because you are not yet bilingual! But my hope is that what you can do magically in a story, understand Spanish, will make you want to learn that magic in real life. Being bilingual is a wonderful way to connect ourselves with other countries and people and understand what it means to live inside their words as well as their world.

So, for now, welcome to Spanish in English, and may it inspire you to learn the language of Spanish in
español.

Acknowledgments

I hereby name the stars on the following pages
after all of you who helped me
write this book.
You know who you are,
my stars.
Thank you!
¡Gracias!

Copyright © 2009 by Julia Alvarez

All rights reserved.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Alvarez, Julia.

Return to sender / Julia
Alvarez. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: After his family hires migrant Mexican workers to help save their Vermont farm from foreclosure, eleven-year-old Tyler befriends the oldest daughter, but when he discovers they may not be in the country legally, he realizes that real friendship knows no borders.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89161-8
[1. Farm life—Vermont—Fiction. 2. Friendship—Fiction. 3. Migrant workers—Fiction.
4. Illegal aliens—Fiction. 5. Vermont—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.A48Re 2009
[Fic]—dc22
2008023520

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