Crossing borders - Carrying hope

Dear one,

We crossed the border on a hot October morning — my two daughters and I — leaving behind a life that had just shattered. My ribs were still mending from the accident. My heart, from betrayal.

Franky had asked me to come help him build a telecom company in the U.S. I said yes without knowing how I would survive the journey, or who I would be on the other side. There was so much uncertainty — new country, new language, new beginning.

But beneath the fear lived something stronger: hope.
Hope that I could rebuild.
Hope that my daughters would find light again.
Hope that love would carry us across.

There was no roadmap, no clear direction — only courage disguised as necessity. I had no idea that this crossing would become the threshold between who I had been and who I was meant to be.

Sometimes faith looks like a mother crossing borders with nothing but love and a quiet prayer that tomorrow will be kinder.

That day, I didn’t just cross a border.
I crossed into my own strength.
Into the woman I was becoming.

With Love and Gratitude,
Alexandra 🤍