It’s just a torn, tiny piece of paper written by my father in his own hand. Now when I look at that remnant, I’m a heartbroken daughter. Now when I look at that remnant, I’m an anthropologist who went looking for documentation, clues and evidence to flesh out a story I know has significance beyond my father’s individual life or my own sentiments.
Chapter 04
Chapter 4 – 3: “The Drive into Manguito”
Miguel looked side to side out the car windows. Ricardo slowed down so we could take it all in: the train station, the park, the main street called Calle Real, and the plaza at the center of town.
Chapter 4 – 4: “Reunion”
Returning to the settings of his Cuban life, my father met old friends in Manguito.
Chapter 4 – 6: “Happy Memories”
We gathered at Hilda’s home, a single story house surrounded by fruit trees and tropical flowers.
Chapter 4 – 10: “Luciano Blanco”
He remembered my father. The last time Luciano might have seen Miguel was sixty-four years earlier when my father was twenty-three years old.