This is a traveling ticket. I used a real Airline ticket booklet and I made a collage on the first page. I used a tarot card, the two of wands, I think, and he's holding the world in his hand The loteria card "La mano" and a map on the background. Traveling requires having the right paperwork, and depending to where you're going you'll need airplane tickets, visas, passports, in one word: permission in your hands from someone else, to travel. Today I got on an airplane in the United States, I felt safe in my seat, is there a reason why I shouldn't feel safe? I try not to think of that and I just concentrate on the task at hand: trying to entertain two very active kids. I get out of the plane and find myself in transit in yet another airport. I am always checking my tickets, my passports, my paperwork. I would feel completely desolated without them, I would have no identity. I get in yet another plane, this time a shorter ride. And then when I finally arrive, I feel I don't really need the paperwork so much. These people look more like me, they speak my language, I contain the urge to give the custom official high fives when he checks my Mexican passport and lets me in just like that. Not even checking my forms, there's not too much to it: I'm back, I have the right papers, I'm in. I try to enjoy this welcoming gesture, trying not to think too much on how it'll be when I go back home again, how unprotected I will feel standing in front of the scrutinizing eyes of the American customs official. Even though all my papers say I live here now, that I am now an American too, they still have this power to just send you back. Like you are some defective merchandise, you are "returnable".
I wonder if this is because I'm trying to enter a country I wasn't born in, and I feel somehow anxious, even though I find everybody else really welcoming, there's something about Customs officials, it's their job to be intimidating, I guess. I wonder if we all feel this way while entering a country you're only visiting, maybe so. But here's the thing, this country I'm in right now, my country where I was born, Mexico... is not home anymore. Home is where your life happens, where your children are growing up, where you feel safe. Tonight I'm enjoying the sense of belonging, the familiar smells, sounds, and landscape but at the same time, I terribly miss my bed, my house, my husband. I can't wait too long to go back home.
I left this ticket in the Dallas airport.
Please see these contributions for this week's topic:
Guide Book by Katie (An Odd Duck). A prompt to stop in your steps and listen to the rain.
Travel France by Kathy LaRocco. Longing for a place you yet do not know.
One more link: Lena's Art A brand new blog!
And one final note... please support your emerging artists and visit my Etsy store! :)