In 1991, I came to Jamaica with my new husband on honeymoon. I remember how happy I was. A wedding is like a big fat love thing. You feel everyone support you and delight in what you are doing.
That trip was so exciting because it was us alone but now married. We were floating between the past and the future- we were coming home afterwards to build our lives together and play house. We had the whole world on our side and our whole future together ahead of us.
In 2006, I came to back to Jamaica alone with 4 friends as a newly separated mom of two pre teen girls. It may seem strange to you that only one of the women- my closest friend of the group, knew I had separated. I wore my wedding rings because I did not want to say anything to anyone. It was very early days and I found it easiest to keep everything to myself. Even my children only knew “mom and dad are having difficulties. Like you with your best friend sometimes we need time alone to sort it out”- I felt they should be the first to know but I was trying to give them small servings of misery. The trip was to celebrate this friend’s 40th birthday that had long been planned. I went reluctantly at this strange time, held my story tight, was somewhat quiet although only someone close to me would have known my extreme pain.
Yesterday, I came to Jamaica with my two teenage daughters. They are now seeing this place for the first time.
It holds much history for me.