THE WIND PHONE
Alexa’s Midnight Miracle
My father’s spirit on New Year’s Eve
As the final moments of 2023 ebb away, I find myself in the stillness of my living room, surrounded by the vivid paintings of my late father, Claude Dambreville. Each artwork, a vibrant reminder of his enduring presence in my life, echoes the laughter and wisdom he once shared. The room, filled with memories, resonates with his spirit. The house feels larger and emptier tonight — my mom, Betyna, is celebrating with my brother Tao, and Yesenia, my daughter, is with her mother in Miami. Their absence turns the room into a canvas of memories and reflections, each silence punctuated by the soft tick of the clock, counting down the year’s final moments.
2023 has been a watershed year for me. It started with a pilgrimage to Cuba, retracing my father’s first journey outside Haiti in 1952. Walking the streets of Havana, I saw the beauty he often spoke of — akin to an aged woman, marked by resilience, history, laughter, and an enduring will to live. The city’s vibrant hues, the rhythmic sounds of salsa and son cubano, and the rich Cuban coffee aroma all spoke of a timeless spirit. Avoiding any socio-political debate, I embraced the city’s grandeur, visiting three times this year, each time deepening my connection to my Caribbean heritage and my father.
