Above the bunk bed Lester Valladaras sleeps on each night, a collection of photos of his three younger sisters and his mother, Maribel Irias, is tacked to the wall. Ms. Irias made the collage during an English class a couple of years ago, before Lester came to America, writing this explanation next to the images: “I have three daughters here with me and two sons still in Honduras. I miss them very much. I hope they come here one day.”
Now that he is here, Lester gazes nightly at the pictures. It is still difficult for him to read English, but he has looked at this message so many times that he can almost recite it by heart.
Last year, as violence edged into the town in Honduras that Ms. Irias had left nearly a decade ago, she called Lester, then 14, and told him to come north with his 15-year-old cousin. The two boys huddled next to each other on the long train and bus rides through Central America, following the demands of the smugglers, known as coyotes, whom their family had paid to help bring them. Ms. Irias’s younger son, Osdy, stayed in Honduras until Lester safely arrived in the United States.
[For more of this story, written by Jennifer Medina, go to http://www.nytimes.com/2014/11...immigrants.html?_r=0]
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