This love affair with Cuba, it’s like an infectious sting.  First there’s the bite.  It comes quick and unexpectedly, out of nowhere.  Then the itch starts, you can’t help but scratch at it and you feel the burn from the inside out as the infection spreads.  All you can think about is finding relief.  You try to escape it in any way you can, but it just won’t let you go. 

You treat it with time, therapy and money, attention and love.  Then you find yourself again turning to the music and rum to numb the pain, and distract you from the spread of this infection into your heart, mind and soul, but somehow it’s too late.  It has already spread into your whole being. 

It seems to increase in severity and deepen it’s impact on your whole life.  Everything starts to seem less important in comparison. Your thoughts and actions start to revolve around finding some relief from the pain, getting back to the place where it all started and soothing yourself for a moment, a week, a month, a lifetime, but instead of making you better, the sting spreads and consumes you. 

One day, years later you see the scar it has left on your life, and yet it is a scar that has softened you and reminded you of the things that matter the most in life. 

This is the infectious sting of Cuba.