I was born in Cuba in 1951 during the Batista regime. In 1959 Fidel Castro overthrew that hated regime and promised a democratically elected government. Pretty soon my mother and other Cubans realized that all those promises were nothing but lies and empty promises. When Castro declared himself a Communist my mother decided to leave Cuba.

We asked for our exit visas and in 1962 I was granted mine before hers. My mother decided that she would send me ahead anyway and made arrangements with the Catholic Welfare in the United States to receive me when I arrived. I came by myself-I was ten years old- with other children whose parents had not been granted exit visas. It was my first airplane ride. The plane was mostly filled with children leaving alone but with some complete families included. Who in the Cuban government decided which families came together and which were separated? We still don't know.

I was a member of what came to be called the Pedro Pan Lift. Over 16,000 children made the trip from Havana to Miami until all exit visas were suspended in 1963.

When we unaccompanied children landed in Miami we were met by a social worker who processed our papers through immigration and told us what to expect when that was done.

After being processed we all boarded vans that took us to our final destination: the refugee camp. I still remember the ride to the refugee camp: after 3 years of shortages of meats and fresh vegetables, we could see huge hams hanging from rafters in Farmer's Markets. We marveled at the abundance of meats, fruits and vegetables we hadn't had for close to three years.

I stayed at the refugee camp, which was really military housing but converted for use by the Pedro Pan kids. Foster parents, who were also Cubans, supervised each apartment that housed up to 10 kids segregated by sex. I stayed there for a month until I was assigned to a permanent location to await my mother's arrival from Cuba. We didn't know when that would be.

After a month I was sent to a Catholic orphanage in Denver, Colorado where I learned English and waited for my mother to come. Within two years she was able to come to the United States and then I joined her in California.

I now live in Arizona and while I'm proud to be an American citizen, I'll always cherish and remember my lonely trip from my island home and all the family, culture and heritage I was forced to leave behind.