Status Updates From My Mother in Havana: A Memo...

And if I'd expected that generosity to clothe itself in softness, the way it had with Miriam, Maruchi again reminds me that there is more than one path to the feminine.

Perhaps it is this, more than anything else, that drew me to Cuba. To find a larger story that might hold us both.

She'd spoken of brujos that inhabited the neighborhood, narrowing her eyes when she said the word, as if magic were something to run from instead of toward.

Something about the river goddess felt at home in my body, as if something or someone were beckoning me toward some deeper version of myself, asking only that I take her hand, close my eyes and follow.