The Perks of Being a Cuban.

These are my grandparents on their wedding day. In the other photo I have of this day, she looks thrilled, and he looks nauseous. She was 32 in this picture and he was 21! Total role reversal for their era and their culture. By her age, she was considered over the hill, totally useless. At his age, he wasn't expected to settle down, he had oats to sew. But here they are, nauseous and thrilled, relieved to have someone, terrified!

He was a box boy at the general store my grandmother worked at. Several sideways glances and long stares later, he mustered up the courage to ask her out. On their first date my grandmother told him "Now, I know you're young and like to have fun, but I don't have time to waste. Do you think we'll get married?" I think she's the person I get my impatience from. But also, how ballsy of her to ask that! So not like the women of that time, or again of her culture. Cuban women STILL don't act like that. Amazing, ballsy. She may be also why I'm the only latin male feminist!

But yeah, they got married because she twisted his arm. My grandfather has always dragged his feet; he never got things done on his own. She's always been the one who pushed. She pushed to move to America, to send dad to private school, she made my grandfather learn English, etc. She's an amazing woman who's been in control of her destiny for the past 60 years at least. And still, she loves my grandfather with all her heart. He makes her sick, he makes her roll her eyes, but she can't be without him.

They have the kind of relationship that's lasted so long that they don't need to be nice to each other anymore. It's the sort of life where they say "well, that's how you are, I get that. I can't effin stand you but I'll probably die right after you do." They're remarkably connected.

This picture is something I've sat and stared at for hours, trying to recreate that day, imagine it in color, in real life. I've put together monologues in my mind of what they said to each other, or what he said under his breath that morning. I've wondered how her nervous stomach was that day, if she yelled at anyone, or if she cried. Thinking about how they met is something I do quite often, because it's a story I've heard bits and pieces of over the years as they remember it. And it freaks me out to see them there, smiling wrinkle free, before the rest of their lives had begun.