(CNN) -
Cassandra yells at her sister as she runs to her room:
"He answered the call!"
It's a relief.
Sometimes calls to Honduras are dropped or not through.
The school bus arrives in less than an hour.
And the 10-year-old has not yet decided what clothes she will wear.
She rests her mobile phone on the bed, next to her Minnie Mouse plush, and pulls up some black leggings so they can be seen on camera.
On the other end of the call, some 3,000 kilometers away, his mother squints her eyes to see better.
"And what shirt will you wear?" He asks.
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Cassandra quickly unfolds it and picks it up in front of the camera.
He gets a skeptical look in response.
"What else do you have?" Asks her mom.
Cassandra says she is not sure.
She goes to the dressing room, walks past the rows of her favorite sneakers and her sister's Selena T-shirt, and drags a wooden chair behind her.
She is much taller now than the last time she hugged her mom… but still not tall enough to reach the top shelf on her own.
Every morning, before going to school, '' Casandra '' and her mother decide through a video call what clothes the daughter is going to wear.
We are at the beginning of June.
The last time that Casandra and her mother were together was on May 23, 2018, that is, more than three years ago.
In detention centers along the US-Mexico border, families like theirs were separated.
That day, the US authorities separated Casandra and her three older sisters from their mother, Juana.
Cassandra was sobbing and said that she did not want to live if they were separated.
At the time, she was 7 years old.
Two weeks later, the girls went to live with their biological father in the United States.
In the end, the authorities sent Juana back to her native country: Honduras.
Since then, moments like this became one of the few alternatives that mother and daughters had to keep in touch.
Cassandra rests her mobile phone again, this time against a pile of T-shirts.
Together, she and her mom choose a sweater to complete the outfit.
Usually they talk for another 30 minutes and sometimes also doodle while Cassandra waits for the bus.
But this morning someone is about to pick up Juana for a date and she can't keep talking on the phone.
"I love you so much," she tells her daughter.
"Now hang up."
"No, hang up," replies Casandra.
"I don't like to cut the call."
They always say this when they chat almost daily.
Neither of us wants to end the call.
His life before arriving in the United States was not easy either
By the time she was 28, Juana was already the mother of four girls.
In Honduras, she and her daughters woke up early every morning.
Montserrat, the oldest, cooked for her baleadas sisters, a traditional Honduran dish of homemade tortillas, beans, and cheese, while Juana brushed Casandra's hair and prepared her and the other girls for school.
They were together, but life was not easy.
Juana hardly ever had enough money for the girls' lunches at school, and the bullets were often the only thing they ate until night.
Later, in September 2016, Juana was attacked.
She reported the attacker to the police, prompting threats of violence from the man's family.
She changed her address several times, but her stalkers found her and the threats continued.
Out of fear for her safety, in 2018 Juana fled with her four daughters to the north.
Juana gets emotional talking about how lonely and isolated she has felt living apart from her daughters for more than three years.
On May 22 of that year, they arrived at the border crossing in El Paso, Texas, where they appeared before the authorities according to Al Otro Lado, an organization that has worked to reunite Juana's family and other families who were separated in border.
The next day, the authorities separated them.
A migration agent told the girls to hug their mother one last time.
That moment is burned into Juana's memory.
“That is the deepest wound.
And when I remember it, I feel like all of that is happening one more time, ”she says.
"It's something that I doubt I'll ever forget."
Before being separated, Juana had never spent a day away from her daughters.
After the separation, I only saw them on the phone.
The treasured family rituals were limited to images and voices on a small, bright screen.
How Border Separations Affect Families
The devastating consequences for families at the border from their separation, prompted by the Trump administration, are well documented.
The world has heard of traumatized children, parents desperate for answers, and search teams raking through Mexico, El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala looking for lost mothers and fathers.
We have also started to see happier scenes like joyous family reunions at airports.
But it's rare to see what these separations mean, day after day, to the people who experience them.
In order to better understand what thousands of families go through, CNN began communicating, a few months ago, with Juana and her four daughters: Casandra, now 11 years old;
Julieta, 16;
April, 18;
and Montserrat, 20.
Juana's daughters with four of their most precious belongings, their mother's objects.
Clockwise from top right: '' Cassandra '' holds a necklace with a letter;
'' Abril '' holds up a quinceañera ring;
'' Julieta '' is holding a paper bag and '' Montserrat '' is holding a set of earrings.
The mother and the four daughters agreed to share their stories, but asked that their faces not be shown and that their location not be revealed.
The daughters also requested to be identified solely by their pseudonyms to protect their safety, as their asylum cases are still pending.
Two days before our first in-person interview, they learned that they would be one of the first reunited families, thanks to the push of a special task force of the Biden Administration to reunite families that were separated during the Trump administration.
In interviews, the girls and their mother described how the years they were apart marked them and the fears they still have for the future.
Some of the harshest stories spring from the mundane details of everyday life, those little things they tried to do to stick together, despite the thousands of miles that separated them.
Her mother wore these earrings the day they were separated
'' Montserrat '' holds her mother's earrings.
They were the last item she got from her mother before they were separated.
Montserrat guards these shiny silver earrings like a treasure.
She is the oldest of the four sisters.
The day her family was separated, she tried to be strong for her sisters.
He didn't hug his mom to say goodbye.
Instead, she took the earrings her mother was wearing and promised to put them away.
At the time she was 16 years old.
In a way, the last three years have been a lot like that moment at the border where they said goodbye.
Montserrat cried as she told us how, every day, she tried not to make mistakes in front of her sisters or to show how she struggled.
As the oldest of the sisters, she took on many of the roles her mother had when they lived together in Honduras.
And she knows that she has to be a good role model, especially for Cassandra.
"There are things I can't say, because she is my little sister, and I don't want her to carry my problems," he says.
“This is what mothers or fathers do, isn't it?
You feel bad, but you don't show it to others ”.
The oldest and youngest of the sisters share a room.
On the wall hangs a poster that says "She is the perfect combination of a princess and a warrior."
Beside her bed, Montserrat keeps dangling earrings on a pile of books.
She loves to wear earrings.
But he never uses the ones his mom gave him that day at the border.
Those he will protect and safeguard them, just as he cares for his sisters.
Juana's mobile phone became a lifesaver, but also a constant reminder of all that she had lost
Juana talks on the phone with her four daughters.
It is your only means of connection with them.
Juana is lying on the bed with her pink Samsung Galaxy phone in hand.
The corners of the case are worn where you hold it.
"God bless you my love.
How have you been?"
He asks each of his daughters when their faces appear on the screen.
Casandra unrolls a new poster of pop star Billie Eilish that she just received.
"Who is it?" Asks his mother.
"And what happened to you?
You have a bruise on your arm ”.
Cassandra is the baby of the family, but she is no longer the little girl her mother hugged at the border more than three years ago.
Of all the things that Juana has missed, what she regrets the most is not having been there for the birthdays and milestones of the youngest of her daughters.
The cakes that have not eaten together.
The songs they haven't sung.
The little moments that they have not been able to share.
"All her childhood, I missed it," says Juana.
For the last three years in Honduras, Juana has lived in hiding from her attacker and her family.
Your only connection to the outside world is what you see through your apartment window and what you see on your mobile phone.
After being deported, Juana spent little more than a year in a shelter apartment in Honduras, a place she rarely left.
Calls and messages from her daughters give her encouragement, but also remind her of all that she has lost.
He hears them talking about homework.
He sees them skateboarding down the street.
Sometimes the distance between them has been too much to bear.
One morning on Mother's Day, she was overwhelmed by loneliness and turned off her phone.
She felt sorry for herself and wanted to punish the girls, because she felt that they no longer loved her.
No matter how many messages were sent, it was never going to be the same as when they lived together under one roof.
That night, Juana realized that she had allowed depression to cloud her good judgment.
She turned on the mobile phone, and messages of love and concern from her daughters flooded her.
The girls fought over this photograph when they found it
After being deported, Juana spent little more than a year in a shelter apartment in Honduras, a place she rarely left.
Before arriving in the United States, they did not know that this photo existed.
But when they found her in her dad's apartment, she quickly became a precious commodity.
It was the only printed photo they had of their mom and they liked its uniqueness.
In the photo, she was just 24 years old and wearing a pink T-shirt and a white ruffled skirt, she was standing tall and looking at the camera with a serious expression.
First, April and Juliet had the photo in their room.
Later, Montserrat and Casandra took it to theirs, until April and Juliet took it from them again.
Ultimately, her dad had to get the photo back so the sisters wouldn't fight over it anymore.
But Montserrat still finds himself looking at the photo for strength.
“Even though she is far away, looking at the photo, I feel like she is here.
Although he is not present, his spirit is.
Your positive energy.
Your challenges.
Their advices".
The awards on the girls' wall were a bittersweet reminder
'' Montserrat '' holds an award for academic excellence that it obtained at the school in 2019.
Montserrat had been living in the United States for a year when he received the news.
He was going to receive a prestigious award at school.
It is now hanging on the wall in the family's living room, a show of pride.
But Montserrat sees something different when he looks at it.
She still remembers the day she stood in front of the school and accepted the award.
Only a cousin had accompanied her to congratulate her.
His dad worked that day.
His mother was in another country.
"I'm in a new country, learning new things, a new language, and something like that is beautiful," she says, "But unfortunately, they weren't there to accompany me."
Music was present during their lives together, but also during their separation
When they lived together in Honduras, music always filled their home.
They listened to romantic ballads by Mexican folk singers and upbeat pop tunes in the mornings to start the day.
Now, everything has become quieter.
Some days the only sounds are the tock, tock, tock of the ceiling fan, the chirping of the birds outside, and the usual noises of the motors on the street.
But music always finds a way to travel the thousands of kilometers that separate them.
Juana calls the girls and sings to them on their birthdays.
And on Mother's Day they sing "The Hymn to Mother" that they learned at school in Honduras.
Sometimes they send each other songs that remind them of each other.
Recently, Montserrat sent him a pop song in Spanish by Cuban singer Lenier "How I Pay You"
“Before I said mommy, now I call you mommy.
Oh thank you for teaching me to talk and walk.
Mother of my life, don't ever leave me.
Oh, because I'm going to cry and I'm going to cry if you leave me ”.
Juana cried when she heard the lyrics of the song.
For years they prayed for a reunion
Juana attends church every Sunday, something she used to do with her daughters when they were all together.
Juana sits on a church bench, clasps her hands in prayer and asks God for help.
For my eldest daughter, take care of her for me,
Protect her for me
Light up every step you take.
This is the only place in her Honduran city where Juana is encouraged to come every week and feel safe.
It is there that he seeks comfort in his darkest days.
But as she watches families enter church on a Sunday morning, she is also filled with sadness.
Before, she also went to church with her family.
Now pray alone.
You have just learned that you will be allowed to travel to America soon, but it seems too good to be true.
She is terrified that something is wrong in the interview at the embassy this week.
And she asks God to illuminate her path.
In her apartment a continent away, her daughters are holding back hope.
A large wooden crucifix hangs on the ledge between the kitchen and the living room. "Pray a lot," it says in italics.
"Worry a little."
For years, Montserrat has prayed - in church and at home - for God to give back to their mother.
She has always heard that faith can move mountains.
And it seems that finally that has happened.
And then came the news they were waiting for
Juana embraces three of her daughters more than a month after their reunification in the United States.
In early June, Juana received a call from her lawyer from the Al Otro Lado organization.
His application for a humanitarian entry permit, which would allow him to travel to the United States and stay there for 36 months, had been approved.
She could travel to the United States very soon.
After three long years of separation, the days suddenly flew by.
Juana's last weeks in Honduras were filled with goodbyes from family members and a transfer to the embassy.
In the United States, their daughters knew their mother was coming soon, but they didn't know when.
Immediately afterwards, Montserrat received a message from her mother: she was going to arrive the next day.
"There was no time to plan anything," says the eldest daughter.
"Everything went so fast".
On June 19, the day their mother arrived, the girls went to a store and bought the most beautiful bouquet they could find and several balloons.
In the midst of the exaltation, they lost some of the balloons when they went out to the bullfights.
Juana got off the plane and went to collect her luggage.
He thought he was dreaming when he saw his daughters.
The older three were taller than her now, another bittersweet proof of the agonizing time they spent apart.
"It was a moment of happiness, of so much joy," says Juana.
"And at the same time, from so much pain."
The three older daughters went first to hug their mother, surrounding her in a group hug.
Cassandra hesitated.
There was no place for her.
He ducked under their clasped arms and pressed against his mom.
A mixture of emotions came to light.
“Se sintió como…. El comienzo de una nueva vida, una nueva etapa”, dice Montserrat, siempre consciente de los años perdidos. “Es tiempo que jamás recuperaremos, pero ahora estamos aquí y lo único que queda por hacer es mirar hacia adelante”.
Sus nuevas vidas están colmadas de alegría
Juana y su hija menor ''Casandra'' acostumbraban a escoger su ropa a través del teléfono. Ahora lo hacen juntas.
Juana ahora vive con sus hijas y el padre de ellas en una unidad de planta baja con tres habitaciones, en un complejo de departamentos en una zona suburbana.
Ella comparte la cama con Montserrat y se despierta todas las mañanas mirando la cara dormida de su hija mayor.
Casandra duerme en la misma habitación, a unos pocos metros de distancia. Julieta y Abril comparten otra habitación.
Juana mira los rostros de sus hijas dormidas todas las mañanas y su corazón se llena de alegría.
Ahora también tienen un nuevo ritual antes de irse a dormir.
“A la noche, antes de ir a dormir, ellas vienen a mi cama y me besan y me abrazan y me desean buenas noches. Me siento feliz”, dice ella. “No hay día alguno desde mi llegada que no han venido a darme un beso de las buenas noches antes de que me vaya a dormir”.
El primer día que estuvo aquí les preparó a sus hijas sus famosas baleadas. Montserrat dice que su hermana Julieta se comió como 20.
Tras estar más de tres años separadas, Juana y sus hijas disfrutan cada momento que pasan juntas.
Juana trabajaba de cocinera en Honduras, y ella y sus hijas han hablado de lanzar su propio negocio vendiendo comida.
Con su mamá de regreso, la vida de Montserrat también se ha vuelto mucho más fácil. Juana ahora retomó muchas de las responsabilidades de las que Montserrat se había hecho cargo mientras estuvieron separadas… cocinar, limpiar y llevar a Casandra al parque de la zona.
Y también es así como Juana quiere que sea. Se siente culpable por el hecho de que su hija mayor tuvo que hacerse cargo de tantas cosas a una edad tan temprana.
“Quiero recompensarla por asumir mi rol, mis responsabilidades como madre”, dice. “Ella necesita un descanso, porque se lo merece”.
Pero las heridas invisibles siguen presentes
Por ahora, la vida es bella. Pero eso no compensa por el tiempo que perdieron ni el recuerdo de ese momento desesperante en el que fueron separadas.
“Ninguna de nosotras… lo olvidará. Que nos separaron. Que lloramos. ¿Quién nos devolverá las lágrimas? ¿Quién nos devolverá la tristeza que sentimos?” dice Montserrat. “Nada sanará las heridas, porque son como cicatrices”.
A través del grupo especial de trabajo, Juana ha recibido un permiso de estadía y una visa de trabajo. Los que abogan por ella esperan que el Gobierno de Biden le ofrezca una solución que mantendrá a la familia unida, como también residencia legal permanente en Estados Unidos.
Juana y sus hijas aseguran que el recuerdo de cada momento que estuvieron separadas permanecerá para siempre marcado en sus memorias.
Eso constituiría un gran alivio para Juana y sus hijas. Juana dice que le rompe el corazón oír a sus hijas hablar del trauma emocional que vivieron por haber estado separadas de su madre. Ella también carga con las cicatrices de su separación.
“Ningún padre desea abandonar a sus hijos”, dice. “Es una pena enorme. Uno siente agonía”.
Pero para Montserrat hay algo positivo que rescatar de la situación. Ella dice que ahora aprecia más a su madre por cosas que antes daba por hechas.
“A través de una llamada, uno no puede compartir un abrazo. A través de una llamada, uno no puede compartir momentos como el que estamos viviendo ahora”, dice. “Esto ha sido… podríamos decir, una experiencia horrible, pero, al mismo tiempo, una experiencia muy hermosa para mí, porque ahora aprecio más a mi mamá. Antes tal vez no la valoraba tanto como ahora. Ahora no quiero que nunca más se vaya”.
La familia aún se está adaptando a su nueva vida después de haber pasado tanto tiempo separada. Después de todo lo que han vivido, también están ansiosas por lo que les deparará el futuro.
Pero se consuelan sabiendo que, pase lo que pase, por ahora lo afrontarán juntas.
Orlando Ruiz, Jeremy Moorhead y Brandon Griggs de CNN contribuyeron a esta historia.