Worms No More

"A butterfly is the promise that we can't stay worms forever."

I heard the news from Alex, my youngest son. He knew this was a good enough reason to wake me up at 1 am. "Mom, wake up, Fidel Castro died." I asked him, "are you sure it's for real?" After all, his death has been announced multiple times in the last decade and every time it's been a false rumor... until now. The worst dictator of the twentieth century is finally dead.

I was born during his regime and left Cuba seven years later. This short time was enough to permanently imprint in my mind what communism can do to a country. We lived in fear. We lived in poverty. We lived without freedom. Even though we lacked the most basic foods, it was the lack of freedom that impacted me the most. And of course, I didn't realize this until I actually left to a free country and I grew up.

My grandmother used to tell me stories of the Cuba I never knew, the free Cuba that my parents and grandparents always cherished. And she would tell me that once I left, I would be able to enjoy that freedom. I would be able to eat cream cheese, my favorite snack, daily and not just once a year. I would be able to play with lots of toys and not just the few toys that they had to struggle to obtain once a year. I would be able to go to church and worship without fear. I would be able to prepare for my first Communion without hiding in a basement. I would be able to travel to other countries freely. I would be able to talk outloud about any subject freely. I would be able to use my imagination and write about anything my heart desired freely. I would be able to attend any school my parents chose for me, whether private, religious or public. In other words, I would have choices and I would be free to make my own decisions, something that in Cuba was no longer possible.

When my parents decided to leave Cuba in search of freedom, my father was fired from his job at the bank and sent to work in a labor camp cutting sugar cane and doing heavy labor. This was the punishment given to the "gusanos" (worms) that were not in agreement with the Communist government and who applied for a visa to leave. The punishment did not recriminate. It was handed out to both men and women, unless the woman had a child under five years old. That's what saved my mom from two years of harsh agricultural labor. But she still had her share of heartache by being repudiated for her decision both by neighbors and co-workers.

Even myself, at the young age of seven, was punished for my parents' decision to leave the country. I remember the day that my second grade teacher announced to the entire class, "I have a prize for just one student, who wants it?" Of course, the entire class raised their hand, "Me, me, me." I was the lucky one. She gave me an envelope and told me to give it to my mom. The so-called "prize" was a letter that said that the following day I had to report to a new school in a different neighborhood. Oh, what a wonderful prize I won. Just a few weeks after starting second grade, I was taken away from the only school I had ever attended, and from my classmates, the friends I knew since kindergarten. When I gave the envelope to my mom, I was very excited: "Mami, they gave out a prize in school and I was the only one that got it." The excitement only lasted until my mom read the note and I saw tears in her eyes. When my mom went to my school the following day and begged them to leave me there, that we would be leaving the country soon, they laughed at her. They were punishing me because according to them we were all just a bunch of worms.

I recall the day we left with complete clarity. When we arrived at the airport, we had to enter a fishbowl. That's where they would place all the "worms" that were leaving. My grandmother would place her hand on one side of the glass and I would place mine on the other side. I didn't understand why she couldn't be inside with us. We carried nothing with us except the clothing we wore and a doll I was allowed to take with me. I remember my coat was dark green. My grandmother made it for me and I cherished it long after I had outgrown it because it was the only reminder I had of her until she and my grandfather joined us two years later.

When we walked to the plane, my mom told me, "do not look back, do not turn around or they will take away your doll." What she really meant to say was, "they won't allow us to leave if any of us look back." I could hear all four of my grandparents calling our names, but I cherished that doll, "Marina," with all my heart, and I believed my mom. I had already seen the "bad people" remove its head to make sure my parents were not hiding anything inside it. Little did I know that day would be the last day that I would see my paternal grandfather, and that it would take twenty years for me to see my paternal grandmother again when she came to visit me in Miami for a short visit.

We arrived in Madrid, Spain, on a very cold November day. I had never experienced that brutal cold weather in my life, but the wool coat that my grandmother made for me kept me warm. We didn't have any family in Madrid. A friend of my grandmother's waited for us at the airport. She took us to a "pension," a sort of cheap hotel where we had a room but where we had to share a bathroom and a kitchen with everyone else. My memories of this place are limited because I lived there for less than two months. My parents knew this was no place for me so 45 days after our arrival, they sent me to live at my grandmother's sister's house in La Coruña, a town in the northwest corner of Spain. But I do remember two things: the small balcony that became our refrigerator because it was so cold outside that the milk and the yogurt would get icy during the night, and my parents scrubbing the common kitchen because whomever used it last had to clean it and they were usually the last ones because they found work right away, so they would get back pretty late and therefore finish cooking way after everyone else. I also remember staying there by myself because even though they found work right away, they didn't find a school that they considered suitable for me. The public school nearby was attended by a very bad "elemento," (bad apples). They couldn't afford private school at this time and they felt it was safer for me to stay alone in "la pension" than for me to attend the public school. And thus the reason why they made the decision to separate from me for a short period of time by sending me to live with my great-aunt.

All these memories have rushed to my mind this weekend, like a river running wild through my brain. All the stories I grew up with, told over and over again by my grandparents and by my parents who wanted to make sure that I did not forget my heritage. Even though I lived just seven years in Cuba, that heritage is as much a part of me as "frijoles negros" (black beans) and "pastelitos de guayaba" (guava pastries) is a part of Cuba. And I have passed on that heritage to my children that were born in the United States of America, the land that welcomed us, because for us, Spain was just a stepping stone until we reached our final destination.

Therefore, even though I feel it's wrong to celebrate the death of a human being, I have no regrets that when Alex woke me up to break the news, I felt joy instead of sadness. I wanted to share this joy with my dad and my grandparents, but they were no longer just a phone call away. But I knew they would be celebrating in heaven, the way we would celebrate the following day here on earth. I got to celebrate with my mom, with my husband, and with my children, in a way that the Cubans that are still living inside the island cannot celebrate. We were once considered worms but we glowed from within. They were never able to extinguish that light. And today, we celebrate like the butterflies that we became because we live in a free country. We are worms no more.

Las Amigas son la Familia que Escogemos

"Un amigo verdadero es el más grande de todos los bienes." Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Cuando mi hija tuvo su primer novio, recuerdo que le dije que no olvidara a sus amigas. A pesar de que los hombres en nuestra vida son importantes pues ellos nos complementan de una forma muy especial, a las amigas nos une un lazo emocional que los hombres simplemente no pueden comprender pues hemos sido creados muy diferentes. A medida que maduramos, necesitamos esa hermandad, ese vínculo entre mujeres que los hombres nunca entenderán.  Los hombres también necesitan amigos, pero para nosotras las mujeres, las amigas son tan necesarias como el agua.

Tal vez porque me crié sin hermanos, le he dado mucho más valor a mis amistades. Y ya que viví en tres países diferentes durante mis primeros doce años de vida, me fue difícil mantener las amistades. Cada vez que me acercaba a alguien lo suficiente para considerarla mi mejor amiga, llegaba el momento de mudarme. Sin embargo, tengo dos amigas que han sido parte de mi vida desde el día que nací y a pesar de que vivimos con un océano de por medio, son mis mejores amigas hasta el día de hoy. Más que amigas, las quiero como hermanas.

Nuestras madres se conocieron antes de que nosotras hubiésemos nacido y fueron inseparables prácticamente desde el primer día. Menos de dos años nos separan a las tres. Tere es dieciséis meses mayor que yo y Dulce dos meses más joven. Mis álbumes de fotos de mis años en Cuba están llenos de fotografías de nosotras tres, lo cual indica que nuestras familias eran inseparables. Esta unión se solidificó en España cuando nos mudamos al mismo barrio de Madrid. Asistiamos a la misma escuela, viajabamos juntas y prácticamente pasabamos cada minuto de cada día en alguna de nuestras casas, en la piscina, patinando en el parque o simplemente divirtiéndonos por el barrio.

Cuando cumplí los doce años, mis padres y mis abuelos decidieron mudarse a Miami. La noticia me causó gran alegría pues había crecido escuchando historias fascinantes sobre los Estados Unidos. Pero esta alegría se tornó amarga cuando supe que Tere y Dulce no se mudarían. Durante los tres primeros años, nos intercambiamos cartas mensualmente. Cuando cumplí quince años, mis padres me preguntaron si quería una fiesta. Las celebraciones de "quinceañera" estaban de moda pero yo no estaba interesada. El único regalo que realmente quería era volver a España y por suerte para mí, me lo concedieron. Pasé la mitad de ese verano en España y es uno de los mejores recuerdos de mi vida. Los años de separación se desvanecieron y una vez más éramos las tres amigas inseparables que se habían criado juntas. Podiamos terminar las oraciones de una u otra y teníamos idiosincrasias y frases que nadie excepto nosotras podían comprender.

Durante la secundaria y la preparatoria en Miami, coseché amistades, pero nadie pudo reemplazar a Tere y Dulce. Cada vez que nos reunimos, en mi lado del océano o en el de ellas, es como si nunca hubiésemos estado separadas. No hay timidez entre nosotras. Podemos hablar de cualquier tema, bromear y compartir los detalles más íntimos sin ruborizarnos. Supongo que esto es lo más parecido a tener hermanas. Dios no me concedió hermanas, pero me bendijo el día que nuestras madres se conocieron.

A pesar de que mis dos mejores amigas, mis hermanas de una madre diferente, viven un océano aparte, he cosechado muchas amistades a lo largo de mi vida. Algunas todavía se mantienen en contacto, mientras que otras han tomado otro rumbo, pero mientras fueron parte de mi vida, tuvieron un propósito y contribuyeron algo que yo necesitaba en ese momento. Cuando me reúno con mis amigas, mi esposo me dice que todo lo que hacemos cuando nos juntamos es chismear, pero es mucho más que eso. Compartimos desde lo más profundo de adentro. No tenemos ningún reparo en cubrir cualquier tema, bien sea sobre relaciones intimas o consejos de belleza, esposos o hijos, política o religión. Nada es tabú. Y cuando estamos atravesando un momento difícil, podemos abrir nuestros corazones con nuestras amigas y compartir las emociones y los temores más profundos. Ellas nos comprenden porque la mayor parte del tiempo, ya han caminado en nuestros zapatos. En los buenos tiempos, pero sobre todo en los malos tiempos, nuestras amigas, junto con nuestra familia, nos ayudan a llevar la carga y nos dan una palmadita en la espalda que nos mantiene caminando hacia adelante. Nuestra fe nos mantiene en pie, pero nuestras amigas nos dan el empuje que necesitamos para seguir andando. Son los ángeles que Dios nos manda cuando la vida se nos cierra a nuestro alrededor.

Que Dios bendiga a todas mis amigas. Las amigas de Facebook que marcan "me gusta" cuando pongo fotos y rezan cuando pido oraciones. Las amigas que conocí en la escuela, en el trabajo o en la iglesia. Cada una de ellas a traido un ingrediente especial a mi vida. Las amigas que he conocido a través de mis hijos, compartiendo tanto tiempo juntas en todas las actividades escolares, fiestas de cumpleaños y excursiones. A pesar de que nuestros hijos crecieron, nuestra amistad sigue en pie. Mi comunidad de la Biblia y mis hermanas de Emaús. Ellas son mis hermanas en Cristo y sé que están a solo una llamada o un texto de distancia. Nos hemos reído juntas y hemos llorado juntas. La fe nos unió y Dios ató el nudo de la amistad. Compartimos la palabra de Dios y mucho más. Somos ángeles de la oración entre nosotras, nos reunimos para rezar, o "chismear" tanto como nos sea posible y las necesito tanto como necesito mi vaso de agua todas las mañanas. Y por último pero no menos importante, Dios bendiga a mis hermanas del alma a las que no puedo esperar para abrazar otra vez. Doy gracias a Dios por cada una de ustedes, tanto las que ya siguieron otro rumbo como las que aún son parte de mi vida. Ustedes son mejor que un café o un chocolate.  Son mi gente. Son la familia que yo escogí para mí.

Así como le dije a mi hija un día, no olvides a tus amigas aún cuando la vida se vuelva muy complicada. Mientras más pasan los años, más entiendo la necesidad de tener otras mujeres en mi vida. Y espero que yo sea tan importante para ellas como ellas lo son para mí.

Salud a mis amigas!!!

Friends are the Family We Choose

"A True Friend is the Greatest of All Blessings." Francois de La Rochefoucauld

When my daughter had her first boyfriend, I remember telling her not to forget her girlfriends. Even though the men in our life are important because they complete us in a very special way, our girlfriends have an emotional tie to us that men simply cannot understand because we are built so different. Especially as we grow older, we need that sisterhood, that women bond that men just cannot understand. Even though men need friends too, for us women, girlfriends are as necessary as water.

Since I grew up without siblings, I treasured my friendships more than most. And since I lived in three different countries during my first twelve years of life, it was also hard to keep them. Every time I got really close to someone to call her my best friend, it was time to move. However, I have two friends that I have known since birth and even though we live an ocean apart, to this day, they are still my best friends. More than friends, I consider them my sisters.

Our mothers met before we were born and became close almost from the get go. Less than two years separate the three of us. Tere is sixteen months older than I am and Dulce is two months younger. My photo albums from Cuba are filled with pictures of the three of us. It looks as though our families were inseparable. This bond was solidified in Spain when we moved to the same neighborhood in Madrid. We attended the same school, went on trips together and practically spent every minute of every day in each other's houses, at the pool, skating at the park or just goofing around the neighborhood.

When I turned twelve and my parents and grandparents decided to move to Miami, I was really excited because I had grown up listening to fairy tales about the United States. But this excitement turned sour when I found out that Tere and Dulce would be staying behind. We wrote to each other monthly for the first three years we were apart. When I turned fifteen, my parents asked me if I wanted a party. The "quinceañera" celebrations were in fashion but I was not interested. The only gift I truly wanted was to return to Spain and lucky for me, it was granted. I spent half of that summer in Spain and it is one of the best memories of my life. It was as if the years apart melted and we were once again the three inseparable girls that had grown up together. We could finish each other's sentences and we had phrases and idiosyncrasies that no one else understood.

I made friends in Miami during middle school and high school, but no one quite took the place of Tere and Dulce. Every time we get together, either on my side of the ocean or on their side, it's as if we have never been apart. There is no shyness between us. We can talk about anything, joke with each other and share the most intimate details without blushing. I guess this is as close as sisters can be. God didn't give me sisters, but He truly blessed me on the day our mothers met.

Even though my two best friends, my sisters from a different mother live an ocean apart, I have made many friends along my journey. Some are still in my life and others have moved on, but while they were a part of my life they had a purpose and they brought something I needed at that stage of my journey. When I go to lunch with my peeps, my husband tells me that all we do when we get together is gossip, but it's so much more than that. We share from deep within. We have no qualms about covering any subject from sex to beauty tips, from husbands to kids, from politics to religion. Nothing is taboo. And when we are going through a difficult time, we can open up our hearts with our girlfriends and share are deepest fears and emotions. They understand because most of the time, they have walked in our shoes. In good times, but especially in bad times, our girlfriends, together with our family, pick up the load and give us the pat on the back that will keep us walking forward. Our faith keeps us standing, but our girlfriends give us the push we need to keep going. They are the angels that God sends us when life closes in around us.

May God bless all my friends out there. Facebook friends that hit "like" whenever I post and pray whenever I ask. The friends I made at school, at work or at church. They each bring a special ingredient to my life. The friends I've made through my kids by spending so much time together at all the school activities, birthday parties and field trips. Even though our kids grew up, our friendship still remains strong. My Emmaus sisters and my Bible community. They are my sisters in Christ and I know that they are just a phone call or a text away. We have laughed together and we have cried together. Faith brought us together and God tied the friendship knot. We share the Word of God and so much more. We are prayer angels to each other, we meet to pray or "gossip" as much as possible and I need them just as much as I need my glass of water every morning. And last but not least, God bless my soul sisters whom I can't wait to hug again. I thank God for every one of you, whether you moved on or you are still in my life. You are better than coffee or chocolate.  You are my village. You are the family I chose for myself.

So just as I told my daughter one day, don't forget your girlfriends when life gets too busy. The older I get, the more I understand the need for other women in my life. And I hope that I'm as important to them as they are to me.

Cheers to my girlfriends!!!