Lucia Guerrero had just stepped off the plane into a cold Montreal sky; she was excited to see snow for the first time and sad to leave her mother behind.
Her aunt Valentina and uncle met her at the gate with open arms; they were surprised at how tall and brave she had grown since they last saw her.
On the drive home Valentina explained that parts of Colombia were no longer safe and that Lucia would stay in Canada for a few years.
The news felt like a winter wind through Lucia's chest; Valentina said her mother would bring most things and join later, and in the meantime Lucia could write letters.
That first night she wrote to her mother, saying she understood why they couldn't tell her before and that she would miss her every day until she came.
A few days later it was time for school; Lucia pulled on her winter jacket, zipped her new blue backpack, and watched a big yellow bus she had only seen in movies roll up the street.
Her aunt squeezed her hand and told her she had to go on the bus by herself; Lucia felt a spike of fear as she climbed aboard.
Inside the bus Lucia sat next to a blonde girl with glasses wearing a pink jacket and yellow sweater; the girl smiled and said something Lucia did not understand.
Lucia's throat tightened when she saw Valentina waving from the curb and she let a few quiet tears fall; Amanda reached into Lucia's backpack and offered a tissue.
When the school bus stopped, teachers waited at the huge brick school building called École élémentaire Sainte‑Thérèse to welcome the children.
In class the teacher asked Lucia to take off her jacket and stand in front of her new classmates; Lucia's heart stuttered until she saw Amanda again.
Amanda introduced herself, and the small knot of fear inside Lucia began to loosen into a warm, hopeful feeling.
The teacher handed out crayons and blank paper and asked the class to draw a bonhomme de neige; Lucia loved making the snowman with a carrot nose and stick arms.
When the bell rang for recess, Amanda grabbed Lucia's hand and they dressed quickly to rush outside to a playground of slides and tall rides Lucia had never seen.
Lucia's eyes widened at the enormous playground covered in snow; the slides and swings felt like giant adventures.
They played and slid for a long time until a lunch supervisor approached with a worried expression and beckoned them inside.
The supervisor seemed to ask about a 'boîte à lunch' and Amanda answered quickly, but Lucia watched as Amanda waved goodbye and left with the lunch supervisor.
A kindly principal in a tidy office picked Lucia up from the hallway and they spoke quietly as a phone sat on the desk.
The principal called Valentina and stayed near Lucia until someone from her family arrived to collect her.
Lucia hugged Valentina tightly and promised she would remember how to find the bus driver at lunchtime and after school.
On the drive home Valentina explained the bus routine: Lucia would take the bus every morning, meet the driver at lunch, and ride home after school.
That night the three of them—Lucia, Valentina, and Uncle Juan—ate a warm Colombian meal at the kitchen table and Lucia told them she had made a new friend named Amanda.
Over the next days Lucia learned school routines, practiced words in French, and wrote letters home that smelled faintly of the pages of her notebook.
Amanda taught Lucia a few silly playground songs and Lucia taught Amanda a simple Spanish rhyme about rivers and mountains.
One afternoon Lucia drew a colorful bonhomme de neige at home and slipped the drawing into her next letter to her mother.
But one lunchtime she forgot to meet the bus driver and suddenly felt the old panic creep back; the principal had to call Valentina again.
Valentina arrived quickly and this time they practiced the exact spot where Lucia would wait for the driver so she would never miss him again.
Weeks passed and Lucia began to look forward to small things: the crunch of snow under her boots and Amanda's laugh in the hall.
At the school's winter fair Lucia brought her letter and drawing for a small art wall; the community's warmth felt like a second blanket around her.
Then came the surprising twist: a volunteer at the fair recognized a small embroidery on Lucia's scarf — the same pattern from a community in Colombia — and asked questions.
The volunteer knew a local family group that helped new arrivals and promised to connect Valentina with people who could bring Lucia's mother sooner.
Soon Lucia began receiving friendly faces at school who asked about Colombia and shared biscuits and stories; each small hello felt like a letter arriving.
One bright morning Valentina woke Lucia with the best news: her mother had booked a flight and would arrive in just a few days.
Lucia could hardly breathe from happiness; she ran through her list of things she would say, and the letter she had tucked in her pocket suddenly felt weighty with meaning.
The big day arrived and Lucia, Valentina, and Uncle Juan stood together at the airport; Lucia's heart raced as she scanned the crowd for her mother's face.
Then Lucia saw her mother — the two ran into each other's arms and the months of waiting unspooled into a single, perfect moment.
In the weeks that followed Lucia discovered that being brave didn't mean never missing home — it meant carrying home with her in letters, scarves, and shared songs.
She taught classmates a simple Spanish rhyme about rivers, and Amanda taught Lucia a winter song in French; they laughed when both languages mixed into a new tune.
One evening Lucia read her old letter aloud to her mother and noticed how many of the small worries had been replaced by a curious courage.
At the end of the year Lucia stood at the school bus as the snow fell again; she no longer felt quite so small in the big, white world.
She knew now that courage could come in tiny steps: a tissue handed at just the right time, a letter carried through winter, or a friend who learned a rhyme for you.
When Lucia thought about home now, she felt a thread connecting Caquetá and Montreal — a thread made of scarves, songs, and the handwriting of the people she loved.
And each time snow fell, Lucia folded a new letter, certain now that courage and love could travel any distance.
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