Ever since I left my hometown in Queretaro, Mexico, building a place that feels like home in the U.S. has been an ongoing task. Today, the idea of home feels even further away because my father, an immigrant who spent almost two decades in the U.S., will be returning to Mexico. He bought a one-way ticket, not knowing that part of my heart will also be boarding the plane with him. Like him, I’m also undocumented, therefore leaving the U.S. legally, or traveling in and out of the country, is not an option for me. I will soon say goodbye to him, not knowing when I will see him again.