But then I remember the travel embargo. Unless Maria travels to see her – and for some reason this doesn’t seem permitted – Uria will miss the pregnancy; she’ll miss most of the first year of her grandchild’s life. I feel a sense of shame, and in that moment Nereus’s mission, our nineteen-month voyage, seems insignificant. We should never have left. If it means that only one woman could be there for her daughter, we should never have left the ground.
