It’s not the start of a poem, a joke, or a limerick, it’s just what struck me when I sat down to write this post. I couldn’t sit in my usual spot – it was occupied by an elderly cat. So I switched up my perspective and sat in a different seat at the dining table and saw things I haven’t noticed in a while.
Many years ago, I took my daughters to Jamaica. they were each allowed to bring a friend. chaperoning four, teen-aged girls is not for the faint of heart under the best of conditions. Add tropical nights, beach and shopping all day and very fit young Jamaican men with alluring dreadlocks and you have a perfect storm. That first trip I only ventured to the town of Negril where we had a great ocean front room. Five of us. It wasn’t until the second trip, with only one daughter and her friend, that I went back to where my first daughter was conceived – Lighthouse Park on the cliffs of Negril.
The first time I went there was 1983??? when I was escaping the cold of New England for the first time since coming home after years of living 7 degrees above or 7 degrees below the equator. It was much less developed and primitive back then. The electric lines had not yet reached that end of the island and the water deliveries were infrequently. It was remote, tropical and a place to find oneself. I returned regularly for a while; an annual trek to see the changes made in the name of progress. The rutted dirt road was paved to allow taxis to bring the tourist trade. Electric wires were strung and cell towers grew to bring the world in.
On one on these epic journeys to change my path in life, I bought a canvas at the “art village” in Negril. It came home, rolled and secured with masking-tape, to be stretched and hung. My three ladies, Lex, Hanni and I dancing our way through life.
Amazing what changing my usual writing seat will do for my perspective!