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The Memory I Can't Shake
 It started out like any other morning. I woke up early to pray, and then began with the regular routine. Soon the orphanage was a buzz with the usual, happy sounds of children as they eagerly ate their breakfast and prepared for the day. It was Friday, December 12, 2008, and I had no idea it would be a date I would NEVER again forget.
Needing to buy vegetables for the orphanage that morning, I decided to take along two of the small girls with me for a trip to the city. We soon loaded up and headed on our way down the road which passes through the small town of Yuma and on up to Guigue. It was a customary trip, at least until I was returning from the market and passed back through Yuma before heading up the mountain. There in Yuma, Edikson Espinosa (Nancy’s 15 year old son) was frantic to catch me before I could reach the orphanage. “Tony, you mustn’t go back to the orphanage,” he warned. “There are a whole bunch of government officials up there and they might put you in jail or kill you! I heard them say, ’Today is the LAST day for that man!'”
Continued...
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