We think we are so different from one another. Growing up in the melting pot that is South Florida, morning always came with the subtle buzzing of an espresso maker. I find myself at times nostalgic for the moments in the morning when I’d pass by a local cafe and grab a little cafecito (which is spanish for coffee). While waiting for what can just as easily be described as Cuban black gold, amongst the whirring coffee machines, you could always be sure to find some spirited debate about world politics. Yes, I grew up in an exile community and so the topics were not always part of local news. As a full on adult woman now I can look back with a fondness at seeing their battle stricken faces turning red when the conversations became heated. It puts a smile in my heart much like the espresso, and hearing the same sort of debate with an entirely different class of people two counties away. Though miles apart … we meet.