Chapter 1: The Border
Editor’s Note
Living in Limbo is a narrative series inspired by the real-life experiences of people struggling to build a life between worlds.
While some characters and events have been adapted for literary purposes, the emotions, decisions, and journeys portrayed here are rooted in true stories.
Because sometimes a border is far more than a line drawn on a map.
There are doors in life.
Some seem to promise a new beginning the moment they open.
Others never open at all.
Yet the doors that change us the most are often the ones we never manage to walk through.
That morning, the sun rose over San Diego just as it always did.
David was running.
As he did every morning.
He waved to neighbors, returned home to the excited barking of his dog Terry, and listened to the familiar rhythm of his family’s day beginning. The smell of waffles drifted from the kitchen while his wife, Anny, prepared breakfast.
Their son was talking about his upcoming soccer game.
Their daughter was eagerly sharing a story from school.
David listened.
He smiled.
But he wasn’t entirely there.
Because in a few minutes, he would leave the house, put on his sunglasses, and become someone else.
He would stop being a father and become a border officer.
Thousands of miles away, in a small village near Ağrı, Turkey, Adem was waking up to a very different morning.
Agrı/ Türkiye
The smell of tea.
Fresh bread.
The quiet movements of his wife in the kitchen.
Everything felt familiar.
Perhaps that was why it felt so heavy.
He stepped into his children’s room.
He didn’t wake them.
He simply stood there and watched them sleep.
Sometimes the hardest goodbyes are the silent ones.
His eyes filled with tears.
When Aygül placed a cup of tea in front of him, their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
Some emotions become smaller when they are put into words.
Others survive only in silence.
That day, Adem was not simply beginning a journey.
He was chasing a possibility.
He was leaving behind a life burdened by debt, uncertainty, and shrinking opportunities in hopes of finding something better on the other side of the world.
His destination was America.
His route would take him through Mexico.
A path thousands had attempted before him.
Long.
Expensive.
Dangerous.
As he moved through airports and connecting flights, the expression on his face slowly changed.
With every checkpoint, he grew quieter.
With every passport inspection, more anxious.
There was no turning back now.
He had invested everything he had into this decision.
His family’s future depended on it.
When he finally arrived at Mexico City’s airport, he looked around.
Turks.
Syrians.
Africans.
South Americans.
Different languages.
Different histories.
Different lives.
Yet their faces carried the same expression.
Hope.
And fear.
Sometimes the two are impossible to tell apart.
Suddenly, movement erupted near passport control.
Several passengers were pulled aside.
Others were escorted into separate rooms.
Adem felt his heart racing.
Could everything end before it had even begun?
His eyes drifted toward a large gate at the far end of the terminal.
To him, it represented something much larger than an airport exit.
It was a doorway to another life.
At that very same moment, David stood at the border.
The sun hung high above the fence.
The crowds had grown larger.
Mud-covered suitcases.
Exhausted faces.
Crying children.
Families waiting in uncertainty.
David’s eyes settled on a small child.
His shirt was torn in one place.
His shoes were old.
He stood quietly behind the fence, watching the world around him.
For a moment, David thought of his own son.
The same age.
The same curiosity.
The same fears.
Perhaps even the same dreams.
Then his radio crackled.
Duty called.
His expression hardened once again.
But the question remained.
What makes this child any different from mine?
Life has a way of placing people on opposite sides of the same story.
Some spend their lives trying to cross a border.
Others are tasked with protecting it.
Yet more often than not, both sides carry the same thing:
The hope for a better life.
That day, Adem and David were looking at the same door.
Just from different sides.
One was trying to enter.
The other was trying to keep watch.
Neither of them knew that some borders do not exist on maps.
They exist within us.
And sometimes the longest journey is not the one between countries.
It is the one that leads us back to ourselves.
To Be Continued…
Some doors open. Others remain within us forever.
Melda Sherman
ARTTMODERNMIAMI NEWS
Facebook: Melda Sherman
