Through the haze of the down pour, Mr. O saw me wipe my face and tilt my head back on the rest. By the way he leaped out in the rain and sprinted across the street, I guess he thought I was a goner.

A strong, flow of wind circulated the car when he swung the door opened. It felt wonderful. I smiled when the cool drops sprinkled my legs…arms….face…lips…

With serious concern, he stared at my wet skin and weary eyes and asked…”Vi…Vi….are you alright?

I wiped my face again. Looked at him and with a smile I said.

“Yes of course, I’m fine…I’m in Jamaica.