BEFORE DAWN, AT NOON, AFTER DARK

January 26, 2020

A GIFT BEFORE DAWN, AT NOON, AFTER DARK

He sits by the fire in the evening, his face aglow from the screen that flickers so rapidly before him that his eyes can’t capture the flashing even as they grow weary from it. The lights are softly glowing around him as his dog slumbers peacefully in front of the stove. Just three nights ago, he shivered in the cold of an unheated house in Cuba, a guest warmly received and royally treated to the extent their resources allowed. 

Cuban homes are mostly simple block structures, universally without any source of heat. Most of the time, it’s unnecessary, but in the winter when the temperature drops into the fifties and sixties at night, and sometimes during the day, that lack of heat is felt. It’s not life threatening, and they tremble at the thought of winter temperatures we shrug off as seasonal, but any time of night or day, the thermostat keeps our home comfortable. We don sweaters, but have the option of turning up the heat at will, making the climate adjust to our liking rather than having to adjust ourselves to it. From morning through noon and into the evening, the house has stayed at a comfortable 71 degrees, a luxury my Cuban friends cannot conceive, and for which I am grateful tonight.