A friend called me from Miami last night and held the phone out of his apartment window so that I could hear the wild partying that had erupted on the streets with the news of Fidel Castro's having (temporarily?) handed power over to his brother, Raul. During my years in South Florida, I was fascinated by the parents and grandparents of my Cuban friends, all of whom seemed to be on perpetual high-alert that the Castro regime was about to fall and that they were all "going home" any minute.
If the Castro government finally does lose power, I wonder how many Cuban-Americans would repatriate? It seems like few of the American-born would go, although I could be wrong. My U.S.-born gay friends have a sad longing for Cuba, even though most had never been there. The partying in Miami feels premature to me, but I sure enjoyed the joyous anticipation coming through the phone last night.
La tierra te duele, la tierra te da
En medio del alma, cuando tú no estás
La tierra te empuja de raíz y cal
La tierra suspira si no te ve más
-Mi Tierra, Gloria Estefan