Stomach growling I say goodbye and catch a ride to Sweet Spot. I had been eyeing that place all week so now is my chance to check it out. Ordered breakfast, the usual, then tried to decide where on the beach I’ll spend my last day. Breakfast came before I could make a decision so I put those thoughts on hold while I take a picture of my plate before digging in.



The moment I placed my hand into my bag I knew something was wrong. My camera wasn’t in there. Everyone in the restaurant heard my gasp and saw “panic” flash across my face. The last place I had it was in the yard. I called Drivah A to come for me and take me back to the room. He was in Lucea. I had to get back there NOW. About to leave my food to grab a cab, the phone rings, it’s Mr. B.

“Good morning, Vi. How you doin?”
“Not good! I think I left my camera in the yard where I stay. Can you come get me and take me back??? I’m at Sweet Spot. Do you know where that is?? Wait, are you near by?? If you are already on the westend, you can go by and check for me!!”
“Calm down, Vi. I will be there in 3 minutes.”

I had them dump my food in a foam container, paid then went outside to wait. I paced and tried to stay composed but it was almost impossible to do. I got sick just thinking about all my memories in the hands of someone who won’t hesitate to delete them without giving thought to the heartbreak it will cause. It had to be there…