At the end of 2022, my family joined me in celebrating my birthday yet again. Over the past few years this has become a quiet family moment for me – one that I absolutely treasure. It is never the same. My nieces and nephews drop in and out, depending on their social itinerary. My sons stay and go depending on their location – living abroad poses a bit of a problem. And I can always count on my siblings. The menu varies depending on our moods – but cake and ice cream are a must. Thanks to my husband who always makes the effort to ensure that I am well pampered.
This year my sister-in-law introduced a simple but very thoughtful table heart-to-heart. Sharing our Roses, Thorns and Buds for 2022 and the New Year. Roses represent the good things in our life. Thorns are those things that caused us pain. And Buds are the things that we look forward to in the future.
So simple, yet so poignant.
We shared sincerely, with some jokes in between. We were reflective and appreciative. We supported each other through the process. We learned a bit more about each other’s trials and tribulations. And ended on a happy note that we were so willing and able to continue to open ourselves up in a loved and protected space.
I learned a few things:
We are a family that loves being a family.
We truly care for each other and are happy for each other
Our sense of humour which may seem warped to others, helps us through our trials and tribulations.
Retirement is a stage of life that brings reason, simplicity and gratitude for our blessings.
May your months ahead be filled with Buds and Roses, and may the thorns dissipate with the love of your family and friends who support and protect you.
I recently had the opportunity to visit my Alma Mater for a fundraising function. It is an all-girls school and since I was only blessed with sons, the need to return to the school has not presented itself in a long time.
It’s quite the experience returning to a place that holds your critical formative years as part of its history. I felt as if I were walking back in time. Everything seemed familiar but with changes. And yet I was a stranger. The entrance driveway seemed shorter, the roundabout smaller, the landscaping sparse – I remembered so many more trees.
And as I looked back at the entrance, I remembered my father driving through the gates, hanging out of the car window, calling “Ninkins” – his pet name for me – waving his hand to catch my attention. I was drowning with embarrassment. And before I could collect my bags, he jumped out of the car and picked them up for me, opening the door and ushering me in with a big proud smile on his face. I wanted to die.
I smiled now at how silly I was not to understand that my Dad was just so happy to pick me up from school, just this once. And yes, he intended to embarrass me but in the loving way he always did.
The event started with a Mass, as all events did at Holy Name Convent. The Hall seemed smaller, filled with HNC girls of all ages. I remembered faces, but names not so much. I remembered smiles and expressions and surprisingly I remembered the songs as if it were yesterday. That familiarity started to creep back in, and I started to feel at home again.
As I gathered together with my classmates, the constant chitter chatter began, and the girlishness sneaked backed in. The giggles, the stories, the dreams shared. “Remember when” preceded every sentence, followed by roars of laughter.
The principal captured our attention with her warmth. She welcomed us back with open arms. She was engaging and well-spoken with a winning smile. I hung on her every word. Something I must admit I seldom did way back when – my attention always being interrupted by some gossipy story or another. But this day I listened. And she warmed my heart. And I smiled. How lucky the girls must be to be led by her.
Memories jumped at me at every corner. Standing alone by the tree in the courtyard in the midday sun, retribution for some random act of disobedience. Sharing our life stories sitting on the edge of the drain (no better place to pour your heart out to your friends). Pinning paper tails on students (what a bully I was). Gossiping about the teachers and their love life. Painting a mural on one of the walls in recognition of our many years at school (well I must have been there for moral support only as my painting skills are non-existent).
It was a time when life-long friendships were formed. When, cocooned by the guidance and care of the teachers, you built dreams for your future. You built a base that would support you in the big bad world. You built memories that would last a lifetime.
Six weeks gone in a flash, leaving very many precious moments etched into my heart. Many times I felt as if I could not hold them long enough, just one more minute please. Not enough books to read. Not enough time at the beach. Not enough walks to the park. Just not enough time. That sweet smile, that warm hug, that soft small hand in mine. That wicked giggle. That morning snuggle. It is never enough.
My blessings are many and I am truly grateful.
Just a short eight months ago I left Julius at 4 months old. He turned one a few days ago. And he is the same sweet angel with the biggest smile and warmest cuddle. He knows what he wants and how to get it pointing excitedly, squealing ‘da da da’. His wide-mouthed smile of pride when he stands on his own melts your heart. His eyes alit, his arms outstretched for balance as he looks around for the clapping sounds of praise, quickly dropping to the floor and zipping across on all fours to his next antic.
Wyatt, now two, has started to replace his incoherent sounds with words you can actually understand. He is non-stop action. Walking is never an option. He is either running or riding or running – whichever way gets him from one spot to the next in the shortest space of time. Talking constantly with an array of facial expressions and complementary sounds that complete his stories that we still can’t easily decipher. His love of music, the water and food is undeniable and he is up for playtime always. He is confident, has no fear, is sometimes defiant, as a two-year old is expected to be, but always ready for a hug.
Solomon is quite the chatter box himself. He has grown up in many ways and having turned three, has adjusted nicely to his big brother role. He loves his Baby Ju Ju – and more and more his heavy loving is being replaced with gentle caresses and less tight hugs, always ready to comfort him. His wicked streak however, still lurking in the background. He always has a ‘flan’ (plan), and quite an intricately interesting plan as well. His collection of seeds and small insects, dead or alive, is testament to his love of nature and his empathy which sees him trying to save even the smallest creature. He loves a good adventure whether it be going to the beach or exploring the nearby creeks and waterfalls. Eating may not be his favourite pastime, but his insatiable love of berries, preferably blue, is unparalleled.
They have all captured a special place in my heart which is full to overflowing. Full of gratitude. Full of memories to last a lifetime. Overflowing with love.
He was the epitome of what living a free life should look like. Exuberant, super grateful, embraced every moment, made you feel like you were the best friend he ever had. His outlook on life was optimistic and infectious.
He gave of himself to everyone he met.
His talent second to none. As a decorator his events were stupendous. I always marvelled at his vision for an empty space bringing his magic and making dreams come true – for those dreamy-eyed brides to the Carnival enthusiasts, to the simple business-like occasions made special by his brilliance.
Robert Solomon had his demons to overcome, and he worked every day of his life to win against all odds. And in my eyes, he did. I only hope that he knew that he was a winner to all those who loved him. And there are many of us who do and always will.
Saying goodbye to someone like Robert at such a tender age is difficult to wrap your head around. I am still at a loss – it is so surreal – a world without my friend. We were in touch but had not seen each other for a while. The plans were there but life got in the way. We had our moments, several of them, for which I am truly grateful.
Would I have done anything differently had I known he would leave so soon? Probably not. For ours was a relationship that included a reveal of our feelings for each other every time we met, whether virtually or in person.
I cry every single time I think of him, for my life will be less exuberant without him. But at the same time, my life has been enriched because of him.
“So what do you do every day?” – the number one question I receive at least once a week. I am touched that so many people are interested in my whereabouts now that I am retired and it always brings a smile to my face, especially because I am really not sure if the person is baffled, worried or simply interested in how I am managing this thing called ‘retirement’.
It is an important question, mind you – what you do with your days after 35 years of being consumed with your job, children, hobbies and life in general. There is a major gap to fill when you retire to an empty nest. And I strongly believe that you need to prepare yourself mentally, physically and financially for this new stage of life. But I was genuinely never worried about filling my days with ‘busyness’ because quite frankly I wanted them as empty as possible so that I could fill them with what I wanted to fill them with. That was my goal, and my mantra – nowhere to be and lots of time to get there – continues to guide me.
My answer to this question is oftentimes – ‘Whatever I want to do’. It really doesn’t answer the question and may sound rude but in essence it simply means that I am free to do as I please, that flexibility rules my day.
Today I thought I’d document my every move – because sometimes I too, am not quite sure what I’ve been up to. So here goes, for those who are really interested in my sometimes-daily routine.
5.00 – Internal alarms goes off – meaning that my eyes can no longer stay closed which I am told is a mature person’s curse. I have not set a morning alarm since I’ve retired, and you have no idea how ‘freeing’ this is. I get up and start my day and I’ve chosen to fill my early morning with exercise. So, I quickly feed the dogs and I am out of the house by 6.00 to take a leisurely 8k run.
The sun is rising, lights are still on in my neighbourhood, the air is cool, the birds are already up and searching for food. As I stroll down my hill, I take in the lush views of the mountains and begin my run slowly, enjoying the peace and quiet on the roads. I am smiling.
The route is quiet at first but as the rest of the world begins their daily commute to school and work, the sound of the birds chirping is drowned by the noise of vehicles rushing to get where they need to be. I am still smiling – I have nothing to rush anywhere for. I feel at peace even with the hustle and bustle around me.
As I finish my run in my favourite park, the squawking of the parrots come back into focus, the squirrels are scurrying from tree to tree, and I share the usual morning pleasantries and chats with my morning exercise buddies. As I pass the school on my way home, mothers are frantically doing last minute homework with their kids, quick hugs and kisses, and they are off to start their day. I remember those days and I smile.
This particular morning, the traffic is thick. I slowly walk back home engaging in conversation with at least four drivers who are at a standstill. I laugh and jokingly thank the traffic for letting me catch up with some friends on the way.
8.00 – I peruse my garden – feeding the wild birds and the pond fish. There’s nothing like walking through your garden, trimming, pruning, chatting with the flowers and wildlife along the way – picking the fresh produce of the day. It’s peaceful and rewarding. As I sit having breakfast, the hummingbirds are darting back and forth from the flowers to their feeders, the wild birds are having a blast with the fresh seeds, the butterflies flitting gracefully from flower to flower. The morning is cool. The rest of the day looms ahead.
10.00 – Hobbies are cast aside today as I have some last-minute shopping to do readying for my big trip next week to see my boys. At the mall I meet up with my sister unexpectedly. With nowhere to be and lots of time to get there, we catch up on the last days’ events, laugh and even reminisce, forgetting that we have anything else to do. Then, oops, we do have things to do and continue on our merry way, all the better for having met up with each other.
1.00pm – Lunch while catching up with the BBC and some other personal messages. However, a day is never complete without succumbing to the call of the sleep gods. And it is raining. YES!!! A movie and a nap are in order for the afternoon quiet time. This was always a must on my retirement list of ‘things to do’ – nap time, relax time, meditation time, me time – call it what you will – the only flexibility about this time is its length, but it happens every single day.
3.00 – I thought I had set aside my hobbies for the day, but my sewing machine is clambering for some attention, and I dutifully answer the call – finishing off some projects before my impending vacation next week. I am still smiling.
But by 6.00, the sun is on the verge of setting and I prepare myself for the end of another beautiful retired day with a glass of wine.
It was a good day. I am blessed and grateful. Looking forward to tomorrow ….
I discovered the Avocat Falls two years ago during the Covid lockdown. Even though we were forbidden to visit any water sources, beaches or otherwise, the outdoors beckoned, and my husband and I ventured to this quiet part of our rainforest to soak in a bit of nature. I was enamoured with the silence of the forest, the magnificent roar of the waterfall and the clear clean water filling the many pools we crossed as we made our way down to the mouth of the Marianne River.
The Avocat village is located off the Arima Blanchisseuse road, and you can trek to the Falls the easy way (20-minute walk both ways) or the more scenic adventurous path (2.5-hour turnaround). And well I am sure you can easily guess that we took the longer route.
Since then, this hike has become our go-to when looking for a ‘quick’ outdoor fix. It begins with a 15-minute uphill climb through the lushness of the rain forest. The birds are always nearby calling out to each other and the sound of the river fades at you move further away. The descent into the river is gentle and you are soon serenaded once again with the rush of the water flowing down river.
There is a slight wade through the river and a quick swim across a pool before you feast your eyes on the roaring waterfall. What a sight to behold. The world stops. You are in a sacred place that nature has provided for all to enjoy. You sit and ponder the strength and beauty of the water gushing over and thundering into the pool below. Tempting for the brave to jump in and enjoy the cool refreshment the water brings. Serene enough for those who just want to sit and enjoy the beauty that surrounds.
You are mesmerised and want to stay a while, and only pull yourself away because you know there is more to experience as you make your way down the river, swimming through the many pools of water, soaking up the natural rock formations, breathing in the sweet scent of the white peace lilies that line the river bank.
We have since taken many friends on this hike with us. And always, but always, it’s a joy to see the smile on their faces. The sheer delight in visiting one of the best waterfalls in Trinidad and Tobago.
I recently re-read the simple story of a young boy saving starfishes on the beach by picking them up and throwing them back into the sea. An older gentleman asked him why, when there were so many starfishes on the beach, did he think that he could make a difference. And as he threw one more back into the ocean he said simply – “It made a difference to that starfish”.
I often wonder what difference I could possibly be making by collecting my one bag of bottles weekly and taking them to recycle. Why do I continue cleaning up my favourite little beach when the ocean continues to bring debris from all parts of the world every single day, not to mention those indiscriminate beach goers who could care less. Why should I go the extra mile to conserve energy by switching off unnecessary lights. Why should I take the extra time to seek out locally grown food when I can just as easily buy foreign stuff in the supermarket all nicely wrapped in plastic.
Because, the truth is, every single small step makes a difference.
One set of bottles recycled can offset the use of precious raw materials. One garbage bag of beach litter results in one bag less of trash floating around in the ocean harming our sea life. A healthier electricity bill, less bulbs purchased and less energy being consumed are good reasons to turn off our lights. Helping grow our economy while limiting the use of plastics, seems good enough reasons for me.
Everything we do has a ripple effect, for better or for worse. Your one tiny step to saving the environment will make a difference. So go ahead and take that step. Your grandchildren will thank you for it.
As a child, Bermuda was synonymous with the legendary Bermuda Triangle, also known as the Devil’s Triangle, a place somewhere in the North Atlantic Ocean where planes and ships were reported to have disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Even though this myth has been dismissed by the experts, it is still ever present in my mind.
Bermuda is in fact an archipelago consisting of over 150 islands with the most significant being connected by bridges, making it appear as one landmass. You can literally run from one part of Bermuda to the other in just over 8 hours depending on your level of fitness. Or if you prefer, you can simply drive around at your leisure in less than a day. But what it lacks in size, it certainly makes up for in beauty.
It is located out in the middle of what seems like nowhere, approximately 1000 km to the west-northwest of North Carolina. Even though I live on an island myself, it’s still kind of scary living so far away from any other landmass, considering the increasing number of hurricanes recorded annually off the east coast of the US. But in essence Bermuda, even though it has experienced the wrath of hurricanes over the decades, receives some protection from a coral reef, and its position at the north of the hurricane Alley limits the direction and severity of approaching storms. As safe a place to be I imagine, as any of the other Caribbean islands.
Bermuda remains one of the British Overseas Territories. With a population of just over 71,000, its inhabitants reflect its rich history of slavery, colonisation and migration with descendants from Africa, Britain, America, Portugal and the mixtures in between. The buildings whether commercial or residential share a similar paint pallet all with white roofs, giving it a feeling of unity and purpose. A very warm and welcoming people greet you and you immediately slip into the vacation-I’m-gonna-have-a-great-time mode. With an ocean view at your every turn, you remain calm, relaxed and always with a smile on your face.
We were fortunate to spend our time with some long-time friends or ‘locals’ as you would say, affording us the privilege of visiting every nook and cranny of this wonderful island by land and sea. From St. Georges at one end to the Royal Naval Dockyard at the other end of the island and all the beautiful beaches, hilltop views, walking trails and restaurants in between.
Thanks to our very generous and gracious hosts, I’d say a time very well spent.
In my humble opinion, there’s not a bad spot, view or beach on the north coast of Trinidad. Not all beaches are accessible but the views are certainly there for everyone to enjoy. The drive is long and winding but the lush flora and the oceanview makes is all worthwhile.
This is just one little beach with so much beauty to offer. Enjoy the pics.
When I turned thirty, some thirty-something years ago, it was a turning point for me. I truly felt that I had finally grown up. I was a big woman. Married with two kids, just purchased my second home, a working career with a great future, and I was secretly thinking of adding one more kid to my small family. Secretly because my husband didn’t know about this plan just yet, and quite frankly he never really knew. It just happened – that’s my story and I am sticking to it.
It was a time full of excitement, lots to look forward to with a growing family. Lots of places to go, people to meet. I held a party at my home to mark the momentous occasion. Friends, family, food, drink, music and dancing of course. As you can imagine, there are a few stories that we reflect on from time to time with our close friends, in awe of what could only be termed as reckless behaviour in this day and age.
There was a certain excitement in my life with what I could only dream were many years of fun and adventure in my future. I was ready to take it all on.
My youngest son turns 30 today. He has just recently landed a job ticking all his boxes. He is single, not that this is a plug but I could take applications – LOL just kidding. He’s just spent the past two days celebrating with friends – fete after fete after fete, as they say. I tried to curtail his enthusiasm with sage advice. It didn’t work. He was determined to put his mark on this milestone.
He organised a party at our home. Friends, family, food, drink, music and some dancing. My husband and I retreated early to our ‘not so quiet’ space as we were no longer ‘needed’. There was certainly a lot of noise, laughter, singing and from the Instagram pics, there was dancing as well. Thank God he warned the neighbours.
The morning-after clues revealed in no uncertain terms that a fun time was had by all and that my thirty-year old was responsible. The house was cleaned, leftovers put away or given away, and the bar empty or tidy – depends on the perspective. But he was missing in action. My husband insisted on calling him, but I knew in my heart that he was just stretching his celebration to the limit. And he was. Going to be beach was next on his list of adventures. I was hoping that this was this last hurrah of the celebrations. A quick pit stop to stock the cooler, and he was off.
Turning thirty has not changed. It is still a force to be reckoned with – no matter the era. It’s a turning point as you head towards the more responsible time of your life. It is to a large extent leaving a bit of your youth behind. A youth you’ve lived to the fullest, taking with you your memories, your joie-de-vivre and your optimism for the best future ahead.