Rosario wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, lifted her two worn suitcases, slipped a rosary into her pocket, and walked out carrying a hurt so deep no words could describe it. But what they didn’t know was that she wasn’t leaving empty-handed. She had a secret she’d been saving for years for her grandchildren.

I was driving toward San Juan del Río when I saw her walking along the roadside—slow, steady, already exhausted. She raised her hand.

“Are you heading south, son?”