Ahhhh New Year’s Day in Mexico, eight policemen killed in a shootout, two heads, drunken brawls, a twelve year old boy kidnapped on his way to his Grandmother’s and my wife and children driving to the United States border, alone.

To be honest, I had threatened my son with cancelling his trip to visit his grandparents numerous times. I was actually looking for a reason, any reason to keep them from going. My wife called me on my threats, she knew why; I was scared, terrified to be more exact. I don’t have a visa to enter into the U.S. which meant the only other person available for the job of driving through hell and delivering my son safely to the American airport, would be my wife; and where my wife goes our two youngest children follow swiftly on her heals.

Of course the United States border is no problem, it’s driving through violent Mexican bordertowns to get to the pretty American border which concerned me. My wife assured me all would be fine, after all this wasn’t the first time she’d taken the kids driving to the U.S. alone. I had to agree, my wife always puts our children’s safety first and foremost, but I just couldn’t shake the uneasiness at the fact it was the first time she we be going since the bordertown’s became bullet ridden blood flowing war zones.

At 5:45 a.m. my wife awoke and began moving the children in preparation for the trip. She waited until the sun slowly began peeking through the blackened night sky and brought each child, one by one, to come and kiss me goodbye. With a few words of final reassurance, a grin, and a kiss goodbye of her own, they were off; my family was gone.

She had alloted 16 hours to get there and get back; just in time to be off the streets and safely home by our town’s narco curfew. I watched the clock tick slowly by. I called non-stop checking that everyone and everything was fine. At 2:40 p.m., I was thrilled to hear they had arrived and were safe and sound at the airport; by 3:40 p.m I was in a panic as they left the airport, alone.

The younger kids were thrilled to be roadtripping with Mom. With every call I got the same response: “everything’s fine Daddy, we’re having fun.” Again time seemed to come to a complete standstill. I felt as if the day would never end and longed to have my wife and kids home, out of harm’s way.

At 11:20 p.m., I heard the car enter the driveway. I rushed outside and greeted my wife and kids like I hadn’t seen them in years. After unloading a few bags and grabbing a snack, my wife and younger son, tired from the drive went directly to bed. Isa, my overly energetic, never tired, bundle of ten year old giddiness was not tired and decided some father-daughter time would be more appropriate than doing something as silly as sleeping. I couldn’t have agreed more, besides, I was dying to hear about the trip and Isa is known to never hold anything back.

As I prepared Isa a bowl of her favorite ice cream, I slowly began my truth seeking ambush:

“So, how was the trip Isa? Did you have fun with Mom?”

Isa: Ya, it was great, Daddy. We had so much fun. Mom let me give the border police my passport all by myself. I got confused when he asked me how old I was. I thought he was asking me how I was, so I told him “I’m fine, thank you” and he laughed and asked me again, then I laughed, too. Daniel was sleeping and the borderman woke him up and asked him for his birthdate. Daniel’s hair was all sticking up and he was droooooling. It was so funny, and gross too.”

“Wow, that sounds funny. So you weren’t scared at all on the trip without me?”

Isa: Why would we be scared Daddy, the United States isn’t all mean and ugly like here; they don’t have narcos everywhere, besides Daniel said Mom had her shank with her to protect us. Do you want to see the cool Jonas Brother’s magazine Mom got me at the airport?”

Shank? When and how the hell did my ten year old not only pick up, but start using prison inmate language? I made a mental note to check the parental channel blocks on the cable t.v. and decided to press on. If there were something to tell, Isa would be the one to say it. I just had to work on her a little more.

“Good thing Mommy had her shank with her, I guess that would protect you from the narcos, huh?”

Isa: Daniel said Mom said the narcos wouldn’t bother us, she just wanted to have something to protect us in case the highway pirates tried to stop us.

What the hell? Highway pirates? I made another mental note to check out Mexican highway pirates on Google and forbid all highway travel.

“So, Isa, I guess the trip was good. No highway pirates, no need for Mommy to shank anyone, a new Jonas Brother magazine; I guess next time I’ll definitly have to go so I can have a fun adventure too.”

Isa: That would be cool, Daddy, but Mommy said you probably won’t. You never want to do anything anymore, Daddy. Sometimes that makes me angry, but Mommy said it’s not your fault, it’s you’re dirty window.”

Dear God. My ten year old returns from the border and suddenly jibbers in foreign tongue. Everything is codelike: shanks, highway pirates, dirty windows. What the hell is going on?

This time I lost my cool and just went in for the strike.

“Isa, what exactly is Mommy trying to say by me having a dirty window and what does it have to do with me going to the border, or anywhere else with the family? That doesn’t seem very nice.”

Isa had had enough, she had become keen to my subtle ambush and was now, obviously retreating behind her Mother-daughter code of silence. She kissed me goodnight and retired to her room.

I was furious. Why the fuck would my wife keep secrets from me. How could she put our children in such danger knowingly subjecting them to highway pirates, when did she start wielding shanks and why was she planting my daughter against me with such codes as “dirty windows”. I couldn’t sleep, again I watched the clock. At exactly 4:53 a.m. I could not hold back, I woke my wife up and demanded an explanation.

Along with the explanation I demanded, I reminded her about the tortures, mutilations, and decapitations; a very real part of life in Mexico. Within seconds, an explanation I got, in the form of rapid fire counter-attacks. You would think I would have learned after so many years of marriage, but it was too late for any type of “open mouth insert foot” retreat, I’d already crossed the line, the only thing left to do was brace myself and prepare for impact.

“How dare you even attempt to say I would put our children at risk. I planned this trip to the “T” with our safety in mind. I made sure the flight was in the afternoon to allow me to leave at sunrise and return before curfew so we would not be caught in a narco convoy on this end of the national highway. I made sure we hit midsection of the national in daylight as well, when the highway “pirates” are off the highways and the military sweep through, and I made sure of hitting the border with a full tank of gas, no reason for stops, no side streets in the exact times when traffick for crossing would be at it’s lowest, coming and going.

As for my shank, it’s my Grandfather’s old knife, do I need it, probably not, but does it hurt to have it? Hell, No.

And YOU....You DO have a dirty window. I know this place is fucked, I know what the narcos are doing, I KNOW they are killing, but WE ARE NOT DEAD and I refuse to live as if we are. Isa was angry and hurt, she said you don’t want to be with us, that’s why you never come with us anywhere anymore. I explained to her you were worried about us and as Daddy, you’re job is to protect us, even if it means you don’t get to share in our fun. When she still didn’t want to forgive you and understand, I told her it wasn’t your fault; in trying to protect us your window got dirty, now you see everything as a dirty threat to us. I told her we need to help you clean the window and let the sunshine through so you can see, just like we have learned to see, that just being alive is pretty damn special.

As for mutilations, tortures, and narco decapitations, do you honestly think I am ignorant enough to not know about them? Do you not remember the sleepless nights I had with Isa, the promise I made to her. Of course I know about them and of course I am scared, but at the same time I could have been killed before we married by a deranged lunatic while still living in the United States. Death and Violence are everywhere in this world. I could be hit by a bus tomorrow, God knows driving in Mexico is damn close to being lethal in every sense of the word. Being caught in a narco bullet crossfire or choking to death on a peanut; dying in the United States, Denmark, Canada, or Mexico, none of it matters. DEAD IS DEAD and WE ARE ALIVE.
Next time, IF YOU SO WISH, I’ll just be honest and tell our daughter you’d rather stay locked in the house brooding, waiting for if and when the day will come; awaiting horrific death, massacred by narcos, instead of actually enjoying the life we have today, here and now, a a family. Granted we have had to make adjustments, but not everything is evil, you just see it that way. You fear for us, I know, you want to keep us safe, but God Dammit Oscar, you have already stopped living. ”

My wife’s rapid fire assault had finally ended. I do not know if she actually ran out of ammunition (highly unlikely) or just felt sorry for me as she returned to bed, turned her back to me, pulled the blankets over her, and turned out the light. Either way, I was thankful; thankful for her, my children, life, and even her shank.

My New Year’s resolution is to keep my “window” clear; not rosy and bright, just clean enough to let a little sunshine in to balance out the darkness I have become so accustomed to living, and fearing.