<body> is you is or is you ain't my baby. <body scroll="auto">

Monday, January 09, 2006



With a week left here on the island (which, with all the recent rain, should lose the privilege of being called the tropic), I'm finally starting to address the heart and soul of coming home. The new year and christmas were lost on me in a scurry of social obligations and seasonal chaos; I haven't yet had time to sit and contemplate what the old year meant and what the new year holds in quite the fashion that I'd so desire.

This trip back has been accompanied by revelation, which is bittersweet to say the least, and the rarest but purest display of such sadness cohabiting with such joy. There is so much to say, but there aren't enough words to say them; and I don't quite feel safe enough in this huge abyss; funny that I should crave such privacy under such public scrutiny. I'm struggling to realize that the friends who know my darkest and most private thoughts, the ones who know me most in the extent of entirety that I've allowed, don't live on this side of the globe. And how can this be, sixteen years of my life spent building relationships here that now seem partially obsolete, where the present lives in the past leaving no room for the wonder of the future.

And then there's family. The blood that rushes through my veins will never change, in death, in sickness, in sorrow, in distance, but it shifts in consistency and flow, sometimes just barely carrying enough oxygen to keep me from suffocating. I miss the naivety with which I used to view this home; the scene that is now tainted in such real translations of sheets of green, bursts of red and drops of blue. Politics pervades through all the little cracks that exist, and I am starting to see that believing the better of everybody is perhaps asking too much. I want to believe that love negates human fallibility, that love is all we need; I want to be seven again, where the meaning of family could be summarized in the portrait of my grandfather carrying my bag for me as we walked to school in the mornings. I miss the days when ignorance was bliss.

sherry @ 8:37:00 pm
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