The man I love.

• Author: Santiago, Esmeralda
• Position: LATITUDES - Reprint - Brief article

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

The night before I left my mother, I wrote a letter. "Querida Mami," it began. Querida, beloved, Mami, I wrote, on the same page as el hombre que yo amo, the man I love. I struggled with those words, because I wasn't certain they were true. Mami understood love, so I used the word and hoped I meant it. El hombre que yo amo. Amo, which in Spanish also means master. I didn't notice the irony.

I sealed the envelope, addressed it formally to Senora Ramona Santiago and, on my way out early the next morning, dropped it in the incoming delivery box by the front door. It was a Tuesday, Mami would check for mail in the early afternoon and by then, I'd be in Florida with my lover, el hombre que yo ... amo.

I carried little. A battered leather bag once used for dance costumes now held a couple of changes of clothes, a bikini, a toothbrush, comb and hairpins, a pair of shoes and sandals, underwear. I left my tights and leotards, makeup, the showy jewelry that added spice and color to the characters I created on stage.

When I stepped onto the sidewalk, I resisted the urge to look back, to...