Baby Blue Hope

Dryness. stark. crumbling walls. The brown road was empty except for the baby blue car. It stood out in pointed contrast against the drab scenery. The car seemed to have been washed and polished for the occasion and the hood was crowned with a lavish bouquet of flowers. The marriage car for a newly wedded Iraqi couple.

Looking over Phoebe's shoulder at the creamy photo album I listened closely to the young woman's accented English as she recounted the events of her wedding day. There were many pictures of this Middle Eastern beauty in her shimmering wedding gown, and of all her many relatives dressed in their best Iraqi garb.

"Did you know your husband before you married him?" I asked
"No, I met him when he came to ask my family for my hand." She seemed happy and content - married this man for now three years with two little children.

In the space of three years she became a wife to a man she didn't know, set aside her career as a chemical engineer, became a mother of two boys, and entered this strange country of America as a refugee.

I wonder about the shy tired hope in her eyes. Her life journey from the baby blue flower-decked car, and her heart. I wondered about her heart most of all. For much of it is entwined with the other side of the globe - with the family she left. The world is exponentially wider and more unknown, yet I can see the baby blue hope of a new life blossoming again.