On a plane back to Trinidad four years ago, I was leaving university mid-semester*. A header in the Surfing magazine that I was reading said, “Don’t go home.”
Four years later, I found myself on another plane going back to Trinidad. The island is ‘home’ because it’s where I’m from, it’s where my family is from and lives. Its not home because I very much do not belong there.
I was following instructions and so I returned. I wish that I didn’t. I wish that I did what was right for me. Not what I was told to do.
I know that this place makes me sick. It has for a really long time. Yet, I went home. Don’t go home.
Find a new home.
(Disclaimer: *Leaving Barbados mid-semester was with good reason. )