My son and his girlfriend were dropping me off. I made them take me early because of my anxiousness to get this reach started. It’s been seven long months since my last visit and I was in dire need of a heaping refill of Jamaica tranquility…my cup was empty.

Finally at the airport in the still darkness of a warm July morning, we exchanged hugs and I love yous. Kenny and Corrine sat in the car and watched me build the luggage tower then struggle to roll up to the revolving terminal doors. Like getting on an escalator, the timing to enter the slow spinning cylinder has to be just right. With a few ginger steps left in my trek to get inside, my son calls. “Hey mom!” I turn to listen thus missing my opportunity to step in…doors opened…doors closed.

He yells with promising seriousness. “I promise not to wreck your car.”