hope

It is the best thing that's ever happened to her. May that not always be true. May this be a beginning, not an ending. A first step, not a final chapter. I see her pride in the scrubs that she wears, and I cross my fingers again.

She's not a nurse, or an aide, or an anything, not yet. She's a student at the tech school, studying Health Related Occupations five mornings every week. Those teachers have their students dress the part, follow the rules for hair and jewelry and nail polish. Get into the habit. She's always wanted to be a nurse, and this feels like a real step. It is a confirmation. One that may be thwarted.

She has a father with a real green card, but his whereabouts are unknown. She has a social security number that is real but may not be valid. She has a mother who would prefer she study cosmetology over nursing; haircuts can be paid for in cash. She has no clear path.

In the afternoons, we look for scholarships that don't require citizenship. We calculate how far we can push the system. The year is half over and the rest will go quick; there's little time to figure this out. It may come to nothing, but not if we can help it. In the meantime, she learns and practices. A dream close enough to touch.