On her way back
At a few minutes past six they brought out the Virgin in her glass case. Everything happened in the same parish of Manrique on the corner of Salud, where I should have gone as a child. Only my parents pretended, by then, that they were Marxist-Leninists and my grandmother couldnâ€™t convince them they should let us girls pray.
Today I returned among a crowd of excited women, children dressed in yellow, women in white surrounded by a security cordon and people leaning over balconies that seemed on the point of collapse. A shower of petals fell on us in Reina Street, while my husband shouted, â€śViva the Virgin of all Cubans!â€ť For a moment I thought that yes, one day what separates us today will mean nothingâ€¦ and she will return to take us in under her golden mantle. As she did with me this afternoonâ€¦