This morning I woke up like any other Tuesday morning, where after showering, and getting dressed, and making my bed, I threw on my flip-flops. I headed downstairs to the kitchen where I pulled together the trash, and I gathered the recyclables. Still half asleep, I tossed them into the cans on the side of the house, and I dragged them to the street corner. After waving hello to Mrs. Nelson across the street, I made my way back inside to grab my cup of coffee and to head to work. It was the same Tuesday morning that plays out most weeks. Nothing unusual, nothing I would have thought twice about, except if I had been waking up on a Tuesday in Utuado or Yabucoa just one year earlier my day would have transpired very differently.