MEMOIR|WRITING|CREATIVE WRITING
Rain
Memories of a life lived in Havana
Bate la lluvia la vidriera/Y las rejas de los balcones/Donde tupida enredadera/Cuelga sus floridos festones
The couple cross Reina Avenue in a rush. They are headed for the other side, where they find shelter from the inclement, autumnal rain. Above them in houses so dilapidated, that many of the tenants pray to La Caridad del Cobre to keep them safe every time it clouds over, clothes are hurriedly snatched away from lines. The couple stop to catch their breath. The woman looks at her belly and rubs it softly. Only two more months to go. The man looks at his girlfriend, soaked to the skin and struggling to find her balance. Her flip-flops don’t help much, sadly. Silver raindrops shine like pearls in her Afro. She gets hold of his left arm and together they walk — shuffle — carefully. The floor is covered in puddles, cracks and dog excrement. He feels a slight chill brought about by this early morning rain and his choice of attire: vest and shorts.
To his right a row of street vendors begins to set up for the day ahead. They’ll probably do well today, he thinks, the rain forcing people to find temporary refuge anywhere, especially in the porticos, under the high ceilings and between the large pillars of Reina Avenue. Add the smells emanating from the…
