We’ve passed over Havana when the tears begin streaming down my face. Uninvited. Quiet.

I didn’t know they were right under the surface, just waiting for enough stillness to emerge.

It’s one of those rare days where the sunshine calls us into its light and we have the freedom to follow. Yearning to feel the wind whip our faces, my man and I hop on his Harley, but every stop sign and every intersection, there’s a traffic jam. An obstacle course to our rush.

“Miles and miles away, My Darling,” her smokey, dreamy voice breathes golden melancholy into my indigo evening. “But in the blue of morning the break of dawn has come / And I’m watching the horizon / Where yesterday has gone.”

You’ve anticipated this day. As your season wanes, ebbing into the uncharted change which lies ahead, the shoreline gives way to the first hints of ocean. You’ve become increasingly aware of both the loss of the known and the openness of the unexplored horizon before you.