It always smelled like wet grass and charred wood. We would sit on the banister of our front porch and look out across the fields onto the woods that lay beyond. If we listen carefully, the sound of chirping birds we can never distinguish would fill our ears.
"Those birds come from Venezuela yuh know."
We would nod in awe and complete belief.
Sunday mornings never failed us. We would wake up to the incessant sound of a couple yelling at each other about the most important things..." Why you leave that cup there! Take offf de TV!"
Slowly, we would make our way down the stairs, peep past the grilled gate onto the kitchen to see which of them was making breakfast. He would look up and smile and we would know it was safe to come all the way down.
In pajamas we would stay, all day, from the couch to the kitchen to the couch again. Until around 3pm when we would be suddenly stripped of our complacency and dropped head first into the reality of the next day.
"Allyuh do allyuh home work? allyuh bag pack? Duh leh meh come dey and buss yuh tail. Get!"
Sunday blues.. a phenomenon that envelopes every child between the ages of 5 and 18. The moment when you realise there is no escaping school the next day and your hours of freedom is over.
Our Sunday blues usually ended in a trip to my grandparents house up de hill. We would gather in large numbers, a clan of clowns and take turns talking bullshit and eating more shit. A Ritual that lasted longer than those who started it.
From the Valley to the Hill, a life laced with more love than you can fit into a calabash.
"Those birds come from Venezuela yuh know."
We would nod in awe and complete belief.
Sunday mornings never failed us. We would wake up to the incessant sound of a couple yelling at each other about the most important things..." Why you leave that cup there! Take offf de TV!"
Slowly, we would make our way down the stairs, peep past the grilled gate onto the kitchen to see which of them was making breakfast. He would look up and smile and we would know it was safe to come all the way down.
In pajamas we would stay, all day, from the couch to the kitchen to the couch again. Until around 3pm when we would be suddenly stripped of our complacency and dropped head first into the reality of the next day.
"Allyuh do allyuh home work? allyuh bag pack? Duh leh meh come dey and buss yuh tail. Get!"
Sunday blues.. a phenomenon that envelopes every child between the ages of 5 and 18. The moment when you realise there is no escaping school the next day and your hours of freedom is over.
Our Sunday blues usually ended in a trip to my grandparents house up de hill. We would gather in large numbers, a clan of clowns and take turns talking bullshit and eating more shit. A Ritual that lasted longer than those who started it.
From the Valley to the Hill, a life laced with more love than you can fit into a calabash.
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