So I was left where I started, with a box of cigars I don't intend to smoke, given to me by a relative I barely know. And now I'm not sure I can trust her or the cigars. Too bad my grandfather no longer smokes Esplendidos, or anything else for that matter. They would have made a fine Christmas present. He would have grown nostalgic as he happily puffed away, recounting the days when he used to smoke cigars rolled by the same man who made them for el comandante. "They were a foot long," he would say, holding up his hands to demonstrate.
I would have listened to the story yet again, silently wondering just how much of it was true. When it involves Cuba, I learned from him, you just don't know what to believe.