I was barred from attending the birth of my grandson, so when they asked me to pay the $10,000 medical bill, I told them exactly what I thought.

The bus journey had lasted twelve interminable hours, but Lucía didn’t care about the backache or the accumulated fatigue in her sixty-year-old legs.

In her lap, she clutched tightly a cloth bag containing a blanket, hand-knitted over months, of soft, cream-colored wool, intended for her first grandchild.

The excitement made her forget her hunger and thirst. She had waited for …