“Where are we going to live?” Paolo asked.
Teresa took a deep breath.
“Wherever necessary,” she replied. “As long as you can learn.”
They moved into a small rented room near the market. They shared a bathroom with other families. The roof leaked during heavy rains.
Teresa washed clothes for her neighbors. She cleaned houses in wealthier neighborhoods. She continued selling tamales. She took on sewing jobs late into the night.
The skin on her hands was cracking. Her back ached constantly.
But she never let her sons think they could give up.
Marco finished first. Paolo followed shortly after.
The path to becoming a passenger pilot didn’t end with a diploma, however. It required hours of flight time, certifications, further training, and patience, which even young pilots sometimes lacked.
The opportunity finally came from abroad.
At the airport in Mexico, they both hugged their mother so tightly, as if they were afraid that the plane itself would not let them go.
“We’ll be back,” Marco promised.
“When we succeed, you will be the first person on board,” Paolo added.
Teresa smiled through her tears.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Just take care of yourselves.”
Then the waiting began.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of phone calls that sometimes ended mid-sentence. Voicemails she replayed over and over. Video calls she learned with the help of a neighbor.
Twenty birthdays spent alone.
Every time she heard a plane over the house, she would go outside the door and look at the sky.
“Maybe it’s one of my boys,” she whispered.
Her hair turned completely white. Her steps slowed. But hope never left her.
One ordinary morning, she was sweeping the entrance to her small house. It was modest, but after years of saving, it was hers again.
Someone knocked.
Teresa thought it was a neighbor.
She opened the door and suddenly found herself breathless.
Two tall men stood before her. They wore pressed uniforms, their badges glinting in the sun.
“Mom…” one of them said in a trembling voice.
Marco.
And next to him is Paolo.
Both in Aeroméxico uniforms.
Both with flowers in their hands.
Teresa covered her mouth with shaking hands.
– Is that really you?
They embraced her as if time had folded itself in half and given them back everything it had taken away.
Neighbors started looking out of their houses because they heard crying.
“We’re home, Mom,” Paolo said.
And this time it wasn’t a promise.
