The sun slowly descends behind the distant hills projecting its final fiery rays of gold and orange across the glimmering water. The darkness of the rocks grows with their elongating shadows, and the hills transform in color from red to orange to purple until they too fall into darkness. The bright sun bobs behind clouds only to reappear and disappear again, but even after the bright light makes its final encore the sky remains lightly illuminated in soft pink and lavender tones. I watch this dance from my perch atop El Morro and think of my father.
I can’t remember when it began, but ever since I was a little girl my father and I have shared sunsets together. When the shadows began to shift in my bedroom I would immediately run into my father’s office and grab his hand, pulling him outside to see the purple and grey clouds streaking the sky. Other times it was he who knocked on my door, and occasionally it was a telepathic communication alerting us it was time to go outside. There was the occasional “ooh” and “how beautiful” if a sunset was particularly stunning, but otherwise words were not needed. A hug and kiss on the cheek were sufficient to say: Thank you, I love you. When I went away to school I would receive and send texts almost daily saying “sunset,” usually followed by a phone call or a short but sweet conversation.
Here, at El Morro, I cannot stop thinking of how truly spectacular this sunset is, especially the way its light bounces across the waves of the ocean, which seems to go on infinitely. I keep taking photo after photo hoping to accurately capture what I see in order to share it with my father over my next email, but none of my photos do justice to the beauty I see. Eventually I put down the camera, accepting the limitations of my camera and resigned to enjoy the sunset alone. While I’m studying abroad in Cuba I can’t hold my father’s hand, let a lone send him a text. Homesickness crashes into my chest like a wave against a rock. I want to share this moment with him, I want him to see this natural beauty and to know that I’m thinking of him—and then I understand: he is with me. He’s in my thoughts when I’m thinking of him, and he’s in my heart when I’m missing him. The realization sends warmth to my chest as if from a hug, which causes me to smile.