Yesterday, Yoani (http://desdecuba.com/generationy/)wrote a blog about the summer heat in relation to deflated expectations – melting hopes; and heat flashes on buses. The political prisoners who have been making the international press for several days – the political prisoners that are said to be released soon – are still behind bars. Summer plays out her drought-full role and, meanwhile, on the other side of the sea, and across quite a bit of land, I sit in a coffee shop, working, in California – doubtful.
My doubts are of a different place and time, but belonging to the same summer. Doubts about the future, decisions made, loves lost, and the fact that I’m sitting here, tired and desperately sad. I will not list my set of concerns because they will, doubtless, seem trite in comparison to the plight of those imprisoned in Cuba or those feeling locked in by the waters that surround them with a tight sky releasing no relief. But, still, I do feel overwhelmed by a particular bout of 31-year old growing pains, another course of searching on the horizon. Because that’s what happens when you grow –there’s this moment of absolute misery, when your pants are too short and you have nothing to wear. You’re naked until you go out and fill your closet again with an adjusted size. And while I minimize my feelings in comparison to that of the citizens of Cuba, I will say they are no less real, no less painful. I long for the day when everything fits again.
Cuba, itself, is going to have to go through an enormous bout of growing pains if it ever sheds its old bag of a leader. Buildings will outgrow their purpose; prisoners their bars; black markets their purpose; prostitutes their profession; bloggers their urgency; exiles their desolation…
My doubts are of a different place and time, but belonging to the same summer. Doubts about the future, decisions made, loves lost, and the fact that I’m sitting here, tired and desperately sad. I will not list my set of concerns because they will, doubtless, seem trite in comparison to the plight of those imprisoned in Cuba or those feeling locked in by the waters that surround them with a tight sky releasing no relief. But, still, I do feel overwhelmed by a particular bout of 31-year old growing pains, another course of searching on the horizon. Because that’s what happens when you grow –there’s this moment of absolute misery, when your pants are too short and you have nothing to wear. You’re naked until you go out and fill your closet again with an adjusted size. And while I minimize my feelings in comparison to that of the citizens of Cuba, I will say they are no less real, no less painful. I long for the day when everything fits again.
Cuba, itself, is going to have to go through an enormous bout of growing pains if it ever sheds its old bag of a leader. Buildings will outgrow their purpose; prisoners their bars; black markets their purpose; prostitutes their profession; bloggers their urgency; exiles their desolation…
1 comment:
I feel all you're saying... I could send you a list too... :) We should compare it and work on it! :)
For me this year has been a shocking growing up realization... One generation gone and me at the end... still feeling like a little girl with the short pants you are talking about... but with a pain so big that throw me the reality of my age and change of decade I kinda... went by without realizing it and what it really meant... time passes by and even if Madonna says so slowly... it does fly away... taking away with it pieces of my heart... That reminds me of a beautiful poem of Baudelaire I always liked... but I came to fully feel this year...
But... because I can't (we can't) do anything to stop it or to be eternal (and make our family and friends eternal, hey what about building a vampire community? OK just a thought...), I go on. And try to pick up the nectar where I find it in life... I'm successful at times... Your friendship is an ounce of it :)
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