My mother--or as I call her, Mami--was only 10 when she left Cuba in 1971, a dozen years after Fidel Castro came to power. She’s never been back. And this was my first trip to the island nation.
My cousin, Alejandro—whom I'd just met—and I ring the bell at Mami’s old house in Havana, Cuba. A grey-haired man—Gustavo--answers and greets us with raised eye brows. After some awkward introductions, he lets us in and we meet his wife, Yolanda.