No Place Like Home, Return To Bermy



the jah warrior raft up, non mariners


I was overly cautious in booking my flight back home. It seemed worth it to not have any accidents resulting in hundreds more euros lost. So I spents some 4 hours in Malaga airport only to spend some 23 hours in gatwick airport before finally sitting on the tarmac for 1 hour and 58 minutes without food or water. Which is exactly 2 minutes before they are legally required to give u something. Finally I was home.

Maybe one day I will do this trip as I imagined it. Completely free. Without weight or worry of the never changing tides that is Bermudian politics and culture. Maybe one day I will be able to sit back, relax and say I did enough, I changed enough. Then again, maybe nothing should ever be good enough for her and maybe I should never be free of her salty air and sandy seduction, just content with it and what I offered her in return.

Running out the gate like a kid on the last day of school. I was so happy to be home, I couldn't even begin to express it. I got picked up from the airport in the boat. Which, as far as I'm concerned is the only way to arrive in true bermudian style. We had to navigate back in the dark due to the tardiness of my plane. I though back on the many times on this trip I had longed for home. How I imagined it so perfect. I came to the conclusion most of those times that I was just idealizing it in my mind, that I had picked out the pretty little postcard memory and clung to it. But I knew in the first breath as I stepped down onto the creaky metal stairs descending off that plane onto the greatest stretch of runway in the caribbean that there was only truth in my perceptions of this place. Every thought was worth a second, every smile she has brought to my face justified and every moment I missed her, was never a moment spent in vain. We chugged back in the fishing boat, under a black knitted blanket sky. The stars like lights behind it peeking thru and every so often slipping thru that fabric of a universe to streak wildly across the sky. We pulled into the St. David's cove and drew closer to the mooring. The engine roar suddenly cut revealing the symphony of the tree frogs around us and in a high tide of glass, we drifted across the perfectly mirrored reflection deeper into the cove. I dont think i have ever cried so happily in my life before. I could only hope that I cry like that again. Not a tear had no time to dry on my face. Not a tree frog had time to squeak between.  I sat on the back of that boat, my arms clasped around my twisted position, more content than I think I have ever been in my life. Content with the unsure, with the unknown, with the jagged harbor road corner my life had been led to when I had always expected to be driving the causeway or racing down mcgaulls. It was in those moments I knew my purpose here was important. There was a bigger reason I was so connected to this place. It was more than childhood memories, and a loose association to heritage. I have the knowledge and the will to change this country for the better and nothing short of a million miles, a thousand people, and every last breath taking moment of this trip could have made me realize just how much it is I wanted to.