This week feels very different from the others, Friday we stayed home, Saturday, a 4 year old's birthday party, Sunday, a dinner party with neighbors, Monday, a hang over from said dinner party, Tuesday a doctor's appointment, Wednesday, girls night with friends... and so on. Very normal, everyday, run of the mill stuff. Well, unless you think about home being on an island, looking at the beautiful sea, a sweet little girl whose family has taken us under their wing, tons of lovely people congregated on one of the most beautiful, arguably the most beautiful beach in the Caribbean, all kind, and considering, and welcoming, and loving. A true "community", something we've longed for forever, but especially since we had Scarlett. Sure, it is harder when you only have 4 good weather months out of the year to congregate, but, I'm telling you, there is a different mindset here, a "we are all in this together" theme that runs hard though these people, one I've longed deeply for.
I've not once been told by anyone who they wanted to be president. Not once been told who they worship on Sunday, or if they worship at all, but I can tell you this, it feels more inclusive, and more like a congregation than I've been a part of since my bar days. They talk about their babies, their food, what Christmas is like here, what makes them happy and sad, and everything else. They ask about your life, talk about their own, and share. The thing that I notice most is that they don't make statements that could separate you, they don't make dividing remarks, and maybe that is because we are literally out on an island together, but there is some real considerations here, a couth. I've been told when activities are happening, and where to find this or that, and what the best way to get something done is, and not for any reason but to help. If someone sees Scarlett, you can see them start to look for me or Jason, just to be sure she is taken care of. A village.
I like it here, a lot.
Jason has an eye stye. No, he has four of them. Only Jason would get four eye styes at one time. Only Jason would go to an eye doctor only to have her sobbing when he sits in the examination chair, and only Jason would not get the story for why. He thought she was having a heart attack because she was breathing funny. Only, Jason.
Scarlett also had to go to a check up this weekend for school, and that was super "normal" except the sucker punch at the end of the visit. "Mrs Yana, I forgot, you need to collect a stool sample from Scarlett, all children are required to submit one, some kids down island have worms", which makes me realize that I need a "nonchalant font" to clearly describe her tone, and probably more importantly, I need a "You gotta be fucking kidding me font" to describe my face. "Some of the things they eat give them worms" (said again in nonchalant) claims the doctor as she shrugs her shoulders. "WHAT ARE THEY EATING?", Irises no longer neighbors with my eyelids in my YGBFKM font. Seriously? Why? Immediately I think we've picked the wrong school, "What do they require at Antilles?", my fair weather, better yet, anti-worm self asks. "Oh, they require blood too there" casually isn't the word for the way this woman talks about parasites. Oh, we are seriously not in America. As it turns out, they no longer require the stool sample, and I am not sure whether I feel good or bad about that.
(update: Scarlett didn't go to school)
The "tropical depression" came out of it, and now it lives happily in the suburbs, married, with two children, in mom jeans, and talks about the good ol days, when it used to smoke, drink, party, and wear bikinis. This week, it's a "tropical swirl", which frankly, I find much more chipper and slightly erotic. Jason says that the "swirl" is worse than the "depression", but he's having a hard time convincing me. I mean, really? Depression, bad. Swirl, dessert. Hopefully it will pass as it's ugly cousin did, without event.
It is officially three months tomorrow.
