The calendar marks October 28th, and, as a reflection of the national soul, Cuba dawns with the burning memory of Camilo Cienfuegos. From Cape San Antonio to Maisí Point, the entire country is usually covered in flowers and hope, to pay tribute to the Hero of Yaguajay, the man who won the affection of the people with the same ease with which the wind plays with the waves.

But today, in the east of the unredeemed island, the wind is different. It is not the one that accompanies the hats in flight of joyful caravans, but one that threatens, that roars, that forces us to close doors, secure roofs, and tighten hearts. In this part of Cuba, where the sea usually welcomes thousands of floating flowers, today there were no waters rewarded with petals. Today, the tribute to Camilo is different, as a powerful hurricane approaches with its destructive fury.

There are no flowers... But there is love. Love translated into responsibility, into care, into the collective decision to protect life. Because that's what Camilo also inspires: courage isn't just about taking up arms or facing the visible enemy, but about knowing how to keep one's neighbor safe when nature imposes its test.

In these tense hours, when the people of the eastern region secure windows, protect crops, hug their children, and take refuge in evacuation centers, the spirit of the guerrilla with an eternal smile seems to walk among them. Camilo is present in the serenity of a farmer protecting his livestock, in the firm hand of a nurse checking a first-aid kit, in the calm voice of the meteorologist who insists on staying alert.

Today, the flowers are elsewhere: in the caring gaze of those who help, in the discipline of those who listen, in the faith of those who trust. All of Cuba is a garden of values that he helped to sow.

The hurricane may challenge maps and alter plans, but it cannot erase memories or extinguish feelings. Camilo lives on, today more than ever. The Cuban people honor their hero by protecting what is most sacred to us. Because, if he were here —and in some way he is— he would also be at the forefront, helping to secure roofs, guiding evacuation, smiling in the rain, and reminding us that love for our country is demonstrated by actions.

There were no flowers in the sea, but there are flowers in our hearts. And that, perhaps, is the most beautiful tribute.