Take Me with You

There is a shaking, a nervous vibration at my core.

I close my eyes in the taxi as it zips down Interstate 95 toward Miami International Airport. I try to rest after a night of endless shifting. But this involuntary shiver, this jumbling of my insides, shakes me into an uncomfortable wakened state. So I lean back and turn to watch traffic go by, the sky still in twilight, the road illuminated by red taillights and the orange glow of streetlamps. Most mornings, the interstate is a snarled mess, four lanes inching so terribly slowly as people make the commute toward downtown Miami. Today, we glide through and past traffic -- Miami is a late-rising town -- and I feel more and more like I am sitting in the cart of a roller coaster as it clack, clack, clacks its way up the steep incline toward an inevitable plunge. There are no brakes. No turning back. I close my eyes and breathe.

What exactly does a Cuban jail cell look like? When I shut my eyes, the image insists on forming. I have a cartoon image in my head. Dank walls, covered in a film of cold humidity, made of large stone blocks, a ... read full excerpt from: Take Me with You: A Memoir ebook