The year is 1959, Cuban dictator, Fulgencio Batista, is overthrown. A young Fidel Castro takes office and an idea quickly spreads among the people: Cuba is changing; a new beginning awaits in America. The Cuban revolution pushed many Cubans to abandon their home country in search of a better life. Many have found this opportunity in Miami; where I began to create my story. Ofelia and Alberto Roque, my maternal grandparents, are considered the trailblazers of our family. In the family she is affectionately called “Negri”, for me she was “Tita” and he was “Tata”. They were middle class workers. Alberto and his brothers were of the opinion that Castro would improve the country; my grandmother did not share their point of view on the matter. The world was divided into two camps, those who believed in Castro and his vision (eventually communism), and those who believed Castro's vision was too radical. It took a lot to convince my grandfather to leave everything he knew, with the promise of a better life for himself and his future family, but Negri was just the woman for the job. At first the Roque clan did not like the choice, but over time the decision was made. A funny story is always told, my great uncle didn't agree with what his brother (my grandfather) had been convinced to do, so his farewell to my grandmother was a sarcastic "Goodbye, ma'am" in English, basically saying who he thought was turning his back on Cuba. A few years later, he was able to return the favor by greeting his brother-in-law with a "Hello Mister" when he arrived in the United States. The "Freedom Flights" took this brave couple to Miami, Florida, where they found their little sense of home in Little Havana. It was a short stay, whispers or......middle of paper......me to broaden my horizons. I needed a change of pace. I found myself in Atlanta, Georgia for almost two years. That was all the time I could hold out for my dear, dear, “305.” I had an epiphany, I could have chosen to live anywhere in the world, but I chose Miami. I drove back just an hour south of my old stomping grounds, in Key Largo. Actually, it's a 45 minute trip if you do it normally, but it's a completely different world. I lasted about a year and a half before again, I couldn't bear to stay away. I currently live in Miami, all in all, I feel at peace with my surroundings. There is no geographic location I could call home, but Miami is the closest to what I imagine home to be. To say I'm grateful to my grandparents for choosing Miami to put down roots would be a huge understatement. Before anyone even thought about me, they knew me better than anyone else.