To arrive, to a foreign destination, never thought it would be so. I waited for this day to come, and never thought it would. Now, I’m standing here, trying to collect my thoughts, trying to digest this reality, but after spending a night in the hospital, digestion has proven not to be my forte. I take it all with stride. Each stride becomes more familiar. Buildings, sidewalks, street signs become less distant—walking back from Casa to La Residencia-the 13 floor building to which we reside-the air carried a density reminiscent of what many rainy days carry (including the one this morning).
The waves crashed above El Malecón as if they were competing against me for a grasp of Havana. After several failed attempts to take a picture of the perfect wave the conclusion was reached to leave. Thus I left, somewhat pictureless, and a thousand words less of what I was trying to capture.
Now, as the air becomes more familiar, stomach more settled, and ear more adjusted to the sounds of Español Cubano—I can finally declare that I have arrived.
No comments:
Post a Comment