Lucia pressed her forehead to the airplane window. “Snow,” she whispered. “I’m really going to see snow.”
But her heart ached. “Mami said it’s just for a few weeks,” she reminded herself. “Just until she comes.”
As she stepped into the arrivals hall, she spotted two familiar faces. “Tía Valentina! Tío Juan!”
“¡Lucia! ¡Mira cómo has crecido!” her aunt exclaimed, hugging her tightly. “You’re almost taller than me now,” Uncle Juan laughed.
“What are they feeding you in Caquetá?”
In the car, Lucia stared out at the icy streets. “Why did you leave Colombia?” she asked.
Uncle Juan’s voice was soft. “La guerrilla came to our mountain. It wasn’t safe anymore.”
“We thought we’d go back,” added Tía Valentina. “But it’s not the right time.” Lucia frowned. “So… I’m not just visiting?”
They exchanged glances. “No, mi amor,” her aunt said gently. “You’re staying. For a while.”
Lucia’s eyes filled with tears. “But what about Mami?” “She’s coming,” her uncle promised. “She’s packing everything. She’ll be here soon.”
Lucia nodded slowly. That night, she wrote - Dear Mami, I miss you already. I know you didn’t want to tell me we were moving forever. But I understand. I’ll be brave. I promise.
A few days later, Lucia stood at the curb, bundled in her winter coat. “That’s your bus,” said Tía Valentina.
Lucia’s eyes widened. “It’s huge!” “You’ll be fine,” her aunt smiled. “Just smile at the driver.” Lucia took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll try.”
She climbed aboard and scanned the seats. “Hi,” said a girl with blonde hair and glasses. Lucia blinked. “Um… hola?”
The girl said something else, but Lucia didn’t understand. Her throat tightened. She turned to the window and saw her aunt waving. A tear slipped down her cheek. The girl gently handed her a tissue.
The bus pulled up to a massive building. “École élémentaire Sainte-Thérèse,” said the driver. Lucia stepped off, clutching her backpack. A teacher greeted her. “Bonjour, Lucia! Come with me.”
Inside the classroom, the teacher smiled. “Take off your coat and stand here so everyone can meet you.” Lucia hesitated.
Then she spotted the girl from the bus—now wearing a yellow sweater. Lucia whispered, “Is that… the same girl?”
The girl smiled. “I’m Amanda.” Lucia smiled back. “Lucia.” Amanda pointed to her sweater. “Different color, same person.” Lucia giggled. “You look like sunshine.”
The teacher handed out crayons. “Let’s draw a bonhomme de neige!” Lucia held up a carrot. “Is this his nose?” Amanda nodded. “And sticks for arms!” Lucia laughed. “He looks like he’s dancing!”
The bell rang. Amanda jumped up. “Recess!” Lucia followed her outside. “Whoa,” she gasped. “That slide is taller than my house!” Amanda grinned. “Race you to the top!”
They were breathless from playing when a lunch lady approached. She looked worried. Amanda whispered, “I think she wants us to go inside.”
In the lunchroom, kids sat at long tables, eating from colorful lunchboxes. The lady asked Amanda something. Amanda shrugged and pointed toward their classroom. Lucia watched her walk away, confused.
The lunch lady showed Lucia a picture of a school bus. Lucia’s eyes widened. “Oh no… I forgot!” She followed the lady to the office, heart pounding.
The principal looked kind but serious. “Let’s call someone,” she said, picking up the phone. Lucia sat quietly, trying not to cry.
A boy walked in. “Hola,” he said. “I’m José. I speak Spanish.” Lucia’s shoulders relaxed. “Gracias.” He asked, “Why were you outside during lunch?” Lucia’s face turned red. “I forgot about the bus…”
She remembered her aunt’s words - “At lunchtime, look for Mr. Lucas and bus 778.” “I messed up,” she whispered. “I thought I was lost forever.”
José smiled kindly. “You’re not lost. The principal called your aunt. She’s coming.” Lucia sniffled. “Really?” “Really. You’re safe.”
When her aunt arrived in the principal's office, Lucia ran into her arms. “I thought I missed you forever!” Her aunt kissed her forehead. “Never, mi amor. Never.”
In the car, her aunt explained again. “Bus 778. Morning, lunch, and after school. Mr. Lucas will always wait.” Lucia nodded. “I’ll remember this time.”
That night, over arroz con pollo, Uncle Juan asked, “So, how was school?” Lucia smiled. “I made a friend. Her name’s Amanda. She gave me a tissue.” Her aunt laughed. “That’s a good friend.” Lucia nodded. “The best kind.”
The next morning Lucia tied a bright orange ribbon to her backpack—Mami’s favorite color—and set out for school with firmer steps.
At recess she helped a little boy find his lost mitten, and his laugh made her feel brave in a new, surprising way.
After school the snow fell harder; the bus ran late and Lucia’s stomach flipped, but she watched the street and waited for Mr. Lucas like she promised.
Then, unexpectedly, Mami walked through the school gates—dusty boots, a worn knapsack, and a volunteer badge pinned to her coat—smiling and breathless.
She hugged Lucia hard. “I had to help others get safe first,” Mami said. “I promised I’d come as soon as I could.” Lucia felt both proud and proud of Mami — brave for helping others and brave for coming back.
That evening the family made paper snowmen and shared stories of mountains and city lights, and Lucia learned that being brave sometimes means helping other people first.
Lucia looked out at the snow, ribbon fluttering on her backpack, and whispered, “We can make a home anywhere.”
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