I’m still sitting at the gate for the eleventieth delay, doing some people watching. In a family text my brother recalled the first flights that were allowed to Cuba in the 80s for humanitarian or medical reasons. It was madness then. A sadness hung in the air in those days — bittersweet and sometimes tragic when stories would surface about traveling to see parents or children that had not had contact in decades.
Today, the ambiance is so different. There’s stress in the air, to be sure, but here’s so much joy. So. Much. Joy! The Pope is going to Cuba!
Anticipation. Excitement.
I know! I’m one of them.