One night of silent crying was enough to start the decision process. A decision driven by hunger, crime and self-abduction. A decision wrapped in frustration, disappointment and despair.

A mind full of doubts and a heart clothed with a horrible pain were the routine companions. Conversations with a friend who was already away were never lacking, to ask him not only practical questions, but also philosophical questions of feeling, of wondering, of knowing if it was worthwhile.

They became quiet people while planning and executing what little they could. The desperation led them to choose the country for the value of the ticket or for the reception of someone surrounded. All with the illusion of working on anything.

Mostly there was no study of opportunities. A projected plan. A vision to five years. There was only one decision to leave without knowing what they would do when they reached their destination.

With their eyes watering and under pressure in their chest, they told their families that they were leaving. Some with nostalgia. Others shielded themselves in discomfort and bravery by letting them know that they did not clog this scroll anymore. But deep down, they all felt the same desire to explode. To cry. To embrace.

But a mother always understands. She had known it for a long time, even before her son. I had cried before the decision was made. That day there were no tears, there were already many nights with them, while imagined that this moment would come. I arrive. His breathing gave the first warning.

A hug and a blessing from God were the constants in those days. The questions of rigor were answered while they kept their composure. Where are you going? Who will receive you? As you do?. In the middle of the conversation, the mother knew that her boy had been forced to mature in just a few days.

Another night of tears had arrived. Another night of questions to God. Another night of liberation. One night of crying until through the nose you can not breathe. That night until the posture to sleep was different, because their bodies were at rest in a form of total surrender.

The day of departure arrived. A broken family and a courtship in suspense. All full of fears and doubts. One of the couple creates around him a sentimental barrier to try to suffer less. I no longer respond to you. The one who does it believes that it is the best, while the other fails to understand it and tries to make it last.

Impotence. Rage. Pain. Injustice. These are the things that are felt in front of the door where only the ticket holder can enter. In the window, with tears on their cheeks families are placed to take the last picture. Not even the worst nightmare had prepared them for the moment of farewell. Nobody wants a goodbye, everyone wants a goodbye.

A long and stormy road. The most favored spent hours at the airport, while the vast majority rolled for days on the roads of an unknown nation. On the other side, there were people anxious to know if everything was going well. Of the food. Of the reach of money. To see it online and the blue color on the WhatsApp sticks. The certain thing is that nobody knew in what his mind to occupy.

At the first exit they met the park. They went to the square. They heard another accent. They ate new things. They were in the subway. Some even had the luck to know the house of a true president. That day they felt different. That day was special. For many, a unique day for too long.

They thought that sadness would end when they arrived. The anguish on the other side of knowing how it is. The anxiety of reunion. False illusions were made. They had come to the conclusion that looking at new things and receiving those remittances would improve the situation. Everyone cheated. At night, when they were alone by the stars and trying to get close to God, they would cry again.

Over time, when forced to transform their lives through learning, and to change their environment through entrepreneurship, there, right there, they understand that life taught them classes with the toughest subjects they could attend.

There, in that classroom, not only are the people who left. That boy, that father, that only daughter. There are also those who have decided to stay. They all see the same subjects. Each one does it from the position of his desk. All eventually receive the postgraduate grades they never planned to take.

Each day they learn some new lesson from that curriculum. Each curricular unit contained subjects such as humility, evaluation, faith, bonds, ego reduction, organization, patience and strength. That didactic planning made by life, and we would never allow them to be the same as before, and every so often, life sent them a strong evaluative instrument to measure their new skills.

I hope you like this post, and help me with your votes.