Sunday, January 12th
Barbados is a lot of what I remember. The air carried in from the sea is a blanket on the island, stifling when still and a satin blessing when gusts of seabreeze cross you. My monther’s family is a still a bastion of warmth and welcome. Their food and that of the island continue to be filling, varied and flavourful.
In some ways, my experience is jarringly different. For the first time since I bailed on a high school football game to cry in my car, I am directly feeling the absence of my grandmother. I’m also of age and can fully enjoy the local run. Strangest of all, is that I’m being involved in fighting a decades old conspiracy against my family over land.