One year.

With spring comes the open windows to morning air. The sounds of the cars rushing outside, the feeling of the yet-to-warm breeze moving through the living room--it all makes me think of Cuba. Think of the view out my bedroom window overlooking the malecón and the waves crashing upon it (sometimes platonically, placidly, sometimes with rage). Think of Cuban mornings when I couldn't wait to begin my day because to live it was to become part of it, part of why that country and those people are so unforgettable.

It's been one year since my last blog entry. An entire year has passed with its seasons and challenges, yet I can't go a day without thinking of Cuba. An hour. Sometimes, a moment. I can't remember what it was like to not always remember something so other than what there is around me now.

I drink tea instead of Cuban coffee in the morning. I eat breakfast alone. I take a shower that is always the same temperature, day after day. I get what I pay for, and I rarely love any of it.

In my Modernist literature class we just read The Big Money by John Dos Passos. In it, the character Margo goes to Havana and stays in Vedado. The Vedado. Our Vedado. Or must it now be Their Vedado? And I read the descriptions of the city and wanted to crawl out of my skin into that other world that I once knew to be real. Sometimes I will come across photos of the places we used to walk and I feel so desperate to be there and stay there and always be a part of there. But I know that's not possible, and only was even a notion for three short months. And while everyone else around is so stable and placed in where they are now, I let my mind wander to plane tickets bought and arriving at the José Martí airport again.

I'm not complaining. I had the greatest fortune of visiting an incredible country and meeting people that I will forever hold in my heart. I will never go through a day when I do not think of the ways things are, and the way things could be, both for the Cubans and the Americans. I will never turn down an opportunity to meet someone new, and I will never assume that anyone is not worth meeting. Cuba gave me that. I will never not wear an article of clothing because it is too outrageous. Cuba gave me that, too. And Cuba showed me a life worth waking up in the morning, a life of open windows, bright colors, and enough love to stand the heartbreak of daily life.

I don't know where I'm headed in my life, but I know that I will always carry my time in Cuba with me. That ache I feel when I'm reminded of my mornings by the malecón may never fully go away, and I hope it won't. It's the ache of the most beautiful, difficult, love-filled time in my life. Wherever I'm headed, I know that I will fight to make the world a better place, and for people to feel less afraid to know one another, and know the consequences of their fear. This is what Cuba has taught me to do, and has given me the determination to do.

That island's a people fighting to stay afloat, and it's up to us, those whose love for her we carry, to fight for her like she (undoubtedly, fiercely) would for us, like she (gracefully, achingly) has done for so many years.

How you love is who you are.

I sit here having completed a 10-page paper (written in Spanish) that was one of the most difficult I've ever had to write, complexity-wise. The process was made infinitely more challenging by my constant desire to procrastinate as much as possible.

During this ordeal, one thing got me through. The gang, having the same daunting task to do, started sending messages back and forth on facebook to each other, creating a thread discussion. The grand total amount of messages? 249.

This leads me to say how much I've learned and loved during my three months in Cuba. Now over a week after returning to the States, I'm finally attempting to write in this without bursting into tears (as I've done quite often since leaving that amazing island).

In an attempt to capture at least a small amount of the most incredible experience of my life, I will try to make a list of things that I have learned:

1. All you need is love. It's true, and the Cubans prove it every day.

2. Fashion's nothing without individuality. Burn your fashion magazines and wear whatever the hell you want. Just rock it with confidence, and that's all that matters. People in the States have infinite amounts of choices in what they buy, yet they all end up looking the same because they're afraid to stray from what's "in." Don't ever be afraid to wear what you want. I once saw a woman in Central Havana rockin' a t-shirt as a skirt, sleeves and all. And damn, did she rock it.

3. Peanut butter is a life-sustaining force.

4. It's no better to be safe than sorry. I mean this the most regarding relationships. A very wise man told me "se necesita dar amor para recibir amor" and it's true. And not just on the romantic level - Cubans are always willing to meet someone new and open up their hearts. There's none of that wondering whether or not to say hello to someone. You say hello, and you value that person because they are part of your life if you want them to be, and that is the most important thing. Your life is only as big as the people you let into it.

5. Some things simply don't matter. Awkward moments? Laugh them off. Mold on your bread? Eat around it. Ants in your bed? They won't kill you. Clothes don't match? See lesson #2. Tough day? Grab some rum, throw on some music, and forget about it. And don't forget about lesson #1.

6. Everyone is beautiful. It sounds cheesy, I know, but it's true. Much like with fashion, we Americans have been brainwashed to think that there's only one kind of beauty. And I know we deny it, but we're afraid of ourselves. We're afraid of our imperfections. You do not need to have a flat stomach to wear a form-fitting t-shirt. You do not have to obsess over cellulite. No one is perfect, so why hide what makes us unique?

7. Every day has the potential to be an adventure if you let it be one. Meet people, love people, and put yourself out there. It's the only way to have a day that you'll remember.

8. Titles don't matter. Communism, capitalism, spanish, english, white, black, american, rich, poor, educated, not. Really. The quicker we stop thinking in terms of what people are and focus on who they are, the quicker things get a whole lot better. And don't believe everything you're told. Question everything, but don't stop trusting people.

9. Don't listen to "La vida es un ratico" by Juanes if you're not in the mood to get sentimental.

10. La vida es sola una. Also told to us by a very wise man. It may be cliché, but it's important to remember that you only live once, so you best enjoy it. There's no reason to be afraid of doing the things you want to do. There's no reason not to be honest with someone that's important to you. There's no reason not to let someone be important to you. If you want live your life, take a risk, and try something. Move to a different country. Reject stereotypes. Figure out the truth for yourself. Be more than just alive; live.

Cuba is more than just an island, and anyone who's gotten to know it realizes that. It will break your heart, but it will give you the determination to put it back together again.

It's made an entire guagua full of college kids cry hysterically the whole way to the José Martí airport, but, more importantly, it's shown those same kids how to love stronger than they ever knew possible.

And what more could you need?