One of the events in my life that sticks with me from my childhood was the day I was locked out.

I was 6 years old.

My father was probably at his office.

My mother worked long days at the hospital and teaching nursing.

My brother was in high school.

We had an older lady, “Miss Rose” who was for want of better terms, our housekeeper and my caretaker.

The infant school I attended was directly behind our home, and every afternoon at 12 pm I would walk to a gate that separated the two properties and shout “Miss Rose! Miss Rose!” and she would come and open the gate and I would be with her as I ate my lunch and played for an hour.

One afternoon, I went to the gate and shouted. No one came. In the midday sun, my little 6 year old self stayed there shouting and shouting and waiting. I distinctly remember that I did not cry. It never crossed my mind to return to the school. I waited and waited.

Now I lived on a street which faced the Caribbean Sea and immediately in front of my home, with a house that to my infant mind was half built on the water, lived an English family. I did not know them very well, but I guess they saw me and took pity. They lifted me over the fence, took me into their home and fed me enchilades (mm! I miss Belizean/Spanish food). 

It turned out Miss Rose had left my home because an old man she cared for had fallen down at her home and hurt himself quite badly. I distinctly remember my parents not being too impressed with what had happened. I must say though that they are amazingly understanding and caring people. I remember feeling quite badly for Miss Rose, even though the discipline she practised was ‘old school’ and nothing like my parents. 

Not long after that we prepared to move to the United Kingdom. The time is a bit of a blur for me, I remember barrels, my 7th birthday party, summer in New York and Miss Rose dying. 

For some reason her spirit visited me tonight.

In the UK, there was a family that attended the same church that I did. It was a mother, a father, and a daughter, Elizabeth. She was about 19 years old. Elizabeth had cancer. My 7 year old self had no understanding of the illness. I just knew that Elizabeth was sick and kept getting sicker and sicker. This family lived 10 minutes from me, and on the very same street. I clearly remember that they had a huge video collection (no dvds in the 90s *smile*) and every now and then, sort of like our trips to Blockbuster, my father and I would take a stroll to their home and borrow different videos.

One summer evening they told me they had a surprise for me. We went out to their garden and their was a pale blue, old fashioned folding-bike that had belonged to Elizabeth. Having left my own bicycle in Belize, I was overjoyed. I did not immediately realise that the bike was a little old fashioned. 

That Christmas when all of my friends got new bikes, I started to pay closer attention to mine. It looked something like this, but  older. Notice the joint where the bike folds in half:

I was still fond of my bike and when I rode it to the park and the other kids would laugh, I remember still riding it proudly home. Then the next Christmas my parents bought me a brand new fancy bike. I’m not even sure what happened to Elizabeth’s little pale blue bike. Elizabeth died later that year I believe, very shortly after getting married to her high school love. She was younger than I am now. 

Her spirit visited me tonight.

I’m not sure why Miss Rose and Elizabeth have decided to cause me to remember them, but by writing down these memories, I hope to never forget.

When the one person in the world you think you can depend on to be there for you emotionally…

Fails?

This week I’m challenging myself to disconnect. 

I really need to get some work done. 

I’m going to have to start limiting internet time to one hour a day.

Wish me luck, I really like the internet!

I don’t know where to start. 

As usual with me, things are pretty bitter sweet at the moment.. though I’m thankful to report more sweet than bitter.

I’m struggling, truly struggling with work on my MA thesis. It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s simply that the balance in my life is not right… just yet. I’m thinking what I really need is to get away, somewhere quiet, green, cool, and away from the noise of where I live and really dig deep. Other than that I’m really pleased with how school is going.. I’m doing well, I could be doing better.. but I never imagined getting A’s.. and as small as that truly is in the big picture, I’m really thankful.

I’ve been browsing through Queen Afua’s Sacred Woman it’s a little tricky to do alone (but thankfully one of my sisters will be joining me in the journey). It’s also a little difficult for me because I’m not really into ‘Khametic’ systems.. but she raises some great points about purifying, healing from the inside out and the outside in..most fascinatingly, she proposes that if others around you aren’t doing the same, it kind of defeats the purpose… so on that note..

I’m about to go make a nice vegan meal for me and RB. Today, the 7th of July, we have been together for 21 months. I think that’s amazing. It’s not worth mentioning the many ‘down’ periods we’ve had in the last few weeks, because today and tomorrow are not yesterday, right?

I’m going to do an avocado and tomato salsa and three bean burgers, with some home made mint lemonade.. easy, light summer meal..

Tomorrow I’m going to pack up my things and look for that space of sanctuary where I can really think and start to work as I need to..

I’ve been thinking a lot about New York for some reason.. 

I guess a part of it is that these last three years have been the longest I’ve been away from the city..

But it’s more than that. As much as I do not like the US, my spirit has been telling me it is a place I need to be for a while.. I love the art culture, the cuisine, and the atmosphere, especially in Brooklyn. So tomorrow I start looking at internships and other opportunities.. not to mention that NYU and Columbia are two schools I would drop this degree in a second to attend. I can’t ignore what my spirit tells me, and so the journey begins..

Other than that I’ve been thinking seriously about my plans after January. I’m hoping to get some work as a tutor from Sept to Dec. Lord knows I need the extra cash, moving back into my parents’ home isn’t really anything I had on the cards past the age of 22, and so I seriously need to start generating some income.. with the end goal of creating my own income, working for someone else into my 50s/60s is not something I want to do.. (the song “Miss Independent” just popped into my head)

Ok, I’m off to get the ingredients for dinner..

I really should blog more often, even if it’s just for myself. It really puts things into perspective.