In December 2015, a family arrived at Memphis' Greyhound bus terminal, a modern, spacious new building near the airport. The parents, Mexican immigrants, were about to say goodbye to their three Mexican American sons.
The parents planned to board a bus that would carry them from Tennessee to Dallas, where they would take a plane to Mexico, a country they hadn't seen for almost 13 years.
The sons seemed tense. A few days earlier, Dennis, the oldest at 25, said he felt emotionally and financially ready to act as co-leader of the household with Isaias, the middle son who was then 21. Isaias said he sometimes felt scared, but thought they could handle the responsibility.
Dustin, the 12-year-old, spoke up. "Just like Isaias, I'm scared about change," he said. "Like, it's not going to be the same when I wake up, seeing my parents standing there in the kitchen. Or something like that. It'll just be sad, to me.
"But the good thing is I'll still have my brothers to guide me."
The mother and father had entered the country illegally, and once they left, would have no right to return to the US. Years might pass before the whole family sees each other again. In the meantime, the two older sons would take care of Dustin.
But Mario Ramos and his wife Cristina Vargas weren't being deported. Like many Mexican immigrants, they were simply choosing to go home. They told me it had nothing to do with President-elect Donald Trump, a mere candidate at the time of their departure in 2015.
