When one’s child leaves
It is very rare to find a father or mother whose child has not chosen to leave the island. By hook or by crook, swallowed by the sea and the jungle, or with all one’s papers in order and perfumed from head to toe, they leave.
There are stories that can be written as long and voluminous as those old encyclopedias now in disuse thanks to the virtues of new technologies. The exodus has not stopped, and although few have said it clearly, a new onslaught of young people in search of something better is already underway, a lifestyle permeated by the often uttered “American dream,” mutated at this point in a dream from anywhere, except on the land where they were born.
When a child leaves us in the thousands of ways in which this is done, we cannot help but cry a lot — inside and out. And there’s only one question: Why?
The answer is apparently simple. Some would answer that for economic reasons; others, because of the politics. And there is no shortage of those who, perhaps more sensible, argue that for reasons of economic policy. In exceptional cases, for reasons of love, or the dark situation caused by the blackouts.
The departure of a child affects the family and the country, which is getting older and older and losing the strength to move on. The elderly residents who remain have already given everything for the country and for other nations that, because lacking knowledge, we were not aware of how far their borders extended.
Therefore, the metaphor: that all that is needed enter the port, so that only those who have left for love may have emigrated, no matter if it’s as far as the very icy Tibet.