The island of Jamaica is small. When I was a little girl, however, it seemed large and imposing, a big place filled with adventure–it was the world to me. I was less than five years old, but I remember the feel of the small rocks beneath my toes as I walked barefoot down the long hot country road. Now, to walk barefoot on stones leaves me wincing in pain. I’ve become soft. But I remember what it was like to feel skin to ground, comfortably warmed stones, and freedom. The freedom stays with me.
Some say memory is fleeting under five years old, yet, I remember even a time of darkness; before the face of my mother, grandfather and favorite uncle; before Jamaica. To be aware of darkness and my existence within that darkness has always been a strange thing for me to carry. It sits inside me, like another life lived somewhere in a place I can’t remember clearly. But I remember a drive-in movie, a memory that stayed with me so deeply and so persistently, that after finding no clues to lead me back to the origins of the memory, I began to think that maybe it was my imagination and not a memory. I wanted to open a drive-in theater, dreamed of the day that I could bring my experience to others, so they could feel the joy I felt on that day long ago. It was like a relentless dream that would never leave me in peace. Forty years later I would mention this memory to my father. With wide eyes, he told me that he was the one who took me to the drive-in movie in Jamaica. He still wonders how I remembered that. I was not yet four years old.
My grandfather built the house we lived in. He was a beekeeper, farmer and a fierce protector of his family. He’d watch as I sat on the hillside playing with tiny red flowers, the name of which I cannot recall, and string them together to make necklaces and bracelets. They were the most unique and interesting flowers I’d ever seen. I don’t remember who taught me about their interesting qualities. But to be able to string the stem of small flowers together with the tops of the flower itself, connecting one to another, is something I have never seen again. They were beautiful and I would spend hours adorning my tiny body with them. I would never see those flowers again.
Shortly after, my mother migrated to America. She carried with her an education, a nurse’s license and two daughters, one who could read at four years old. While other children were dragging blankets or dolls through the house, gripping them for dear life, I would have a book in tow. Many doubted I could read. But after reading through a few books, those who couldn’t believe it quickly discovered that I was in fact reading, and reading well.
Writing followed close behind. While I would take short breaks from writing during my years in primary school, it never left me. By the time I entered Junior High School, I was infatuated with poetry. One day, a few years later, I would accept my destiny and step into writing as a career. I realized I was passionate about storytelling and sharing my ideas about the world. I wanted to bring readers into my mind, my experiences and my way of seeing our existence. I wanted to become a griot, but knew I couldn’t reach as many in that role. In lieu of becoming a true griot, I decided that ink and paper would be my voice box, my oral tradition to spread far and wide. I would pass my words down to my children and grandchildren and help them to imagine us sitting around a fire as I fastidiously recounted stories until sunrise. The written word would be my sound and echo, vibrating on the hearts of those who read my creations.
Writing has for many years now become a dear friend to me, a warm cup of tea, a walk on the beach, a talented lover, a heartfelt laugh, a sunny day, an intellectual debate, an unfolding of memory, thought and the unfailing wisdom of imagination. It is my passion, my first love. When you love something, it needs nurturing and requires us to give our time to it, generously and without complaint. We do it unconditionally. We do it because it is all we desire to do. Anything else would be a source of discontent. We hone our love, making it better and stronger each day. We recognize our shortcomings and work to improve with each word.
I believe that when you’ve found a thing you love, it should be less a dream come true and more a life you’ve decided to nurture through doing something that is, and has always been, your passion. When you are passionate about a thing, you have no need to dream. Your passion will be all you know and will ever want to know, and never something you wasted time dreaming about. I’ve never had to dream of becoming a writer. It has been my whole life, leaving no time to dream, only time to be.
Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing
Trackbacks & Pingbacks
- Too Much ____________! | The Photo Faith Challenge
- Daily Prompt: Work « Vicariously Poetic
- Questions from a three legged alien | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
- Ballerina | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
- Pride Stinks | The Jittery Goat
- Daily Prompt – Money for Nothing | Views Splash!
- My Job Makes Me Feel Sexier Each Day | My Life and My Career
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing -Stock Trader | Journeyman
- Writing in PostMortem | 365 days of defiance
- Chasing The Dream Job: A Haiku; Saturday, February 15, 2014 | LisaRosier.com
- Daily Prompt: Money or Nothing | Thoughts of an INFP
- Daily Prompt: Work, an artist’s rendition | VNA Images
- My DrEaM jOb…. | ensuing light…
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing « Mama Bear Musings
- Montreal Mystery Mansion: Redpath Family Home to be Demolished | DCMontreal: Blowing the Whistle on Society
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing | Awl and Scribe
- Living, Learning, Earning and Leaving | The White Coat Chronicles
- My Dream of a Perfect Day… | Midwestern Plants
- Passion Brings You Money ! | Knowledge Addiction
- Lawyer Up « Mon Cache
- My Goal For My Future « One Crazy Mom
- One Crazy Mom
- My Dream Job « One Crazy Mom
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing | tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice
- DP Daily Prompt: | Sabethville
- a medium maybe? | peacefulblessedstar
- Forging friendships and learning: help me pitch? | callieweylin
- A Soaring Heart | snapshotsofawanderingheart
- Daily Prompt: Work | That Montreal Girl
- 265. The Perfect Job | Barely Right of Center
- That’s My Life | Flowers and Breezes
- Artsy Fartsy | Maria For Real
- If I were a Carpenter and You were a Lady? | meanderedwanderings
- Dreamy job! Daily Prompt | alienorajt
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss
- Working Fur Free… | Haiku By Ku
- Whats more lovely than being a part of kindergarten? | harinivasudev
- Rabbiting on: Marzipan Three | alienorajt
- I May Not Have a Piece of Paper, But I’m Fluent in Proficiency | A Sober Head Full Of Confusion
- American Dream | Finale to an Entrance
- Ideas4Humanity.com(tm)
- Dreams Do Change | Lisa’s Kansa Muse
- Dream Job | My Play Nook
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing | Not The Sword But The Pen
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing | The Poet Stefan
- General Hospital Explores How Someone Learns Homophobia
- Dreaming About My Dream Job – Musings | wangsgard.com
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing – Inspiring the World or Sinful Pleasure Seeker | Just Be V
- Daily Prompt : Dream Job | Processing the life
- No money | Life is great
- Life of a zookeeper in an imagined zoo | A picture is worth 1000 words
- Beowulf/Daily Prompt | I’m a Writer, Yes I Am
- IS THIS WORK! | Francine In Retirement
- Word Doctor | thejimmieG
- DP: Work | As I See It
- Daily prompt: Money for nothing | laura-in-china
- Daily Prompt, 15 February 2014: Money for Nothing | The San Francisco Scene–Seen!
- Rite of labour | shame
- Jobs & Benefits | A mom’s blog
- Isn’t It Obvious? | Under the Monkey Tree
- Зимен пейзаж от майстора на ремонтите на битова техника по домовете в София | lxpress2
- Why I Think the Atlantic is Right: Where is the Love? In the Philippines. | Kosher Adobo
- DP: The Mirror of Erised | Scorched Ice
- Compagnon de Voyage….(wp daily prompt) | Daily Observations
- Time Lord Required: Apply Within (It’s Bigger) | Steve Says….
- Why haven’t I pursued my dream job? | Life Sans God
- Money for Nothing | Life on the Golden Rock
- Dreams Do Come True | Visions Of a Vikzen
- Money for Nothing | I’m a runner and so can you
- Daily Prompt: Being Paid for Nothing! | All Things Cute and Beautiful
- Daily Prompt – Money for Nothing? | Lifeinpawprints’s Weblog
- RUINED FOR WORK | SERENDIPITY
- Day 46. . . Ultimate Job | Dear Blog ’14
- Job = Work… Even in Your Dreams | My Author-itis
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing | Believe | sky blue with daisies
- Monk for the Revolution | Coyota Fiera
- Day 46: Dream A Little Dream | The Sacred Architecture of Here and Now
- Daily Prompt Feb 2014 | The Life of A Working Mum
- Why I teach | Muddy River Muse
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing | Basically Beyond Basic
- Money For Fun and Creativeness | Read Me
- Haiku: Righteous Work | Dhikrcave
- The Pioneering Mathematician | [In]motivation
- Give me the ski slopes any day | 2 times pink
- What Am I Supposed To Do With My Life? | lynnesartandsoul
- Daily Prompt: Work, What have I been doing today? | Daily Prompt & Blogging Progress
- In response to the Daily Prompt: “Money for Nothing” | simply vettie
- Daily prompt: It’s raining on Pollyanna Rock | helen meikle’s scribblefest
- Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing | Occasional Stuff
- Chesapeake Waterman’s Shanty | Exploratorius
- Work: Whatever You Do… | The Abuse Expose’ with Secret Angel
- Seven boredom-busting ideas for kids in Sydney | discovering anywhere
- Life Of A Cosmetologist!If I had my druthers | Willow’s Corner
- Big Bucks of Babysitting | 365 Days of Thank You
- A Day I Dream Of Living | Call Me Incorrigible
- The Ultimate | Help Along the Path
- Money for Nothing – Ramblings from the Swamp
It’s amazing that you were reading at 4. How did you learn?
I wish I knew how my mother taught me. What I do know is that she read to me daily. She’d been reading to me virtually from birth.
I’ve been reading a lot to my son also who is now 4 but not even close to reading. You are gifted.
I’m still working on getting to another level of gifted. 🙂 Long way to go.
Even though your son cannot read yet, he is absorbing everything. He is learning.
I read your post and felt,yes she is truly gifted.Your post is so beautiful to read. I am glad to know you and read your work.My best wishes to you.
Ranu
Thank you so much for reading. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Namaste.
beautifully remembered and written so well
Thank you!! Namaste.
Such deep reflection richly textured with loving reminisce.