One time, I woke up from an afternoon nap, and I went downstairs and found the den full of ladies in red dresses with plates and drinks in their hands. I took it they were from the school next door.

The airport seemed like a megalithic bathroom, with its janitorial-fresh aroma, pale yellow tiled walls, and green steeped corridors. We headed into the front lobbies near the baggage checkpoints and ticket counters where my mom scoured the proximity for her brother, Uncle Bhoy.

In Wat Tham Krabok, a Hmong refugee camp in Thailand, many rushed to register for U.S. immigration before the deadline — and before the camp would finally close down. Thailand’s government had issued an ultimatum: to either move elsewhere or face forced repatriation to Laos.