A few weeks ago, I went home to Michigan for a visit. While I was there, something very special happened. There is a family here in Tucson of refugees from Sudan that have become good friends of mine. The oldest brother, who lives here with his wife, children, and two younger brothers, told me months ago that he had a sister living in Michigan. So, when I went back for a visit, he gave me his sister's phone number.
Two nights before I left for Arizona, I called his sister. I was nervous. So many things could go wrong--she might not understand me or she might be confused about who I was. She might not be home, or she might not have time to meet me. But she answered the first time I called her, we understood each other, and she agreed that I could come visit her the next morning. So the next morning I drove an hour to her house.
I came inside the apartment complex with a box full of tomatoes and a stack of books. Even then, I still worried. What if she wasn't home or I had come to the wrong place?
She answered the door. I gave her the tomatoes and explained that I brought them from Tucson, and that one of her brothers had helped picked them. We talked about her experience so far in America and about where she had been before coming here. She showed me photos of her family and friends, most of which were taken in the refugee camp. She woke up her two elementary school aged daughters, and they almost immediately began to look through the books I had brought. This was perhaps my favorite part of the visit--seeing these girls, the nieces of my friends in Tucson, looking so eagerly at the books I had read in my own childhood. As they looked through the books, they caught each other's attention when they found pictures they liked and wanted to show the other.
After I had been there a while, a knock came at the door and a little girl came in. She was clearly a regular presence in the apartment and she started looking through the books, too. Later her mother stopped by and brought some food. I had seen pictures of her and her daughter in the photo album.
After the girls looked through most of the books, the older daughter went to her room and brought back a notebook and pencil and started trying to draw the Rainbow Fish. Her mother smiled and said her daughter liked to draw. The other daughter showed me a picture of her class and pointed out which students were her friends.
Before I left, we took a picture together. She kept thanking me for coming, and I kept thanking her for letting me come. She walked me out to my car. I wished I could stay longer. I wished I could come again, soon. I remembered what one of the other brothers said when I told him I was going to try and see his sister: "Bring her back with you." I wished that I could.
A few days ago I talked to her oldest brother on the phone. After welcoming me back to Tucson, he thanked me for going to see his sister, and I thanked him for connecting me with them.
I look forward to visiting her again when I go home in December for Erica's graduation.
And I wonder how I became lucky enough to have such an incredibly special experience.
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