a million moths.

she turns 46 today. here she is in the only childhood picture she owns. twelve years old, with no idea of all that lie ahead. five years later i would be born and war would erupt across el salvador. friends would disappear. my grandfather would be killed. my father exiled. she would flee to the u.s. by herself and sacrifice everything — cleaning houses, assembling airplane parts, ironing clothes — to become what she is today: my best friend, my hero, my mentor, my counselor, my greatest blessing. happy birthday, mama.