I am always met with disbelief when I tell people I do not travel. Having been a single mom since the age of 19, I always found it difficult to make the time and effort to travel, in or out of the country, unless that travel was work related. Everything I have ever done has had to make money, not cost money, and that mentality has kept me from personal travel. I promised myself that when my son turned 18, I would make a conscious effort to live my life, and do so all over the world. Well, that was two years ago, and I am still grounded in Los Angeles. But, all of that changes this summer.
As I have gotten older, I have become comfortable and settled in my ways. I only do what's familiar, and I avoid as much interaction with people as possible. But there is a fine line between comfort and complacency, and I'm pretty sure I may have crossed it. So, this summer, for my 40th birthday, I am going home to St. Thomas to spend much needed time with my family and get some much needed inspiration.
There are many reasons to travel, but for me, there are specific reasons why I need this trip –– my grandmother and my art. I have always known that I would need to go back home in order to write the one thing I need to write the most. And even though I don't know exactly what that is, I know it is buried in the Caribbean, guarded by my grandmother. Her hands. Her cooking. Her bosom and the way she looks at me.
Something transformative is underfoot, and it all started with a plane ticket.