words

Passports.

We sat looking at mum holding the yellow envelope.
It had been three years with all those applications.
Denied
The next year.
Denied.
Then three months ago the call had come.
Rigorous paper work.
Questions.
Patience.
The seal broke.
Piercing the tension in the room.
She tucked her hand inside and we watched her eyes widen and water.
Our passports.
We could travel.
We could leave and start a new.
Go to school.
Mum would be able to work.
I wouldn’t have to marry early.
She tipped the envelop and dark covered booklets spilled onto the table.
Our freedom.

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