They Thought I Was Crazy

Once I realized I'd be cohabiting with donkeys, I also thought I was crazy.

Welcome to CHAPTER TWO of my island memoirs, originally published in 2011 and adapted to include current times and life situations. Each chapter is free to read for the first week and then it’ll drop behind a paywall. Coconuts are free…rum is not 🍹

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I couldn’t believe I was jetting off to Jamaica so soon after my first trip.

How does one even go from ‘never travelled in her life’ to skipping town again a mere two months later?

I felt incredibly guild-ridden that I had chosen to spend money on an airline ticket rather than something meaningful my son and I could enjoy together. As a single mom, I was accustomed to saying no to literally anything that wasn’t deemed a necessity, yet there I was, spending a significant amount of money on frivolity.

I felt like such a hypocrite.

If not for my devoted Nana, who was thrilled to spend a week spoiling my 10-year-old and letting my dog, Mojo, eat pizza right off the plate, I would’ve never booked another vacation.

I vowed that after this trip, the next chunk of cash I stumbled onto would be dedicated to epic family adventures with my son.

Most people thought I was crazy for flying back to Jamaica alone to stay with a virtual stranger I’d only met a handful of times. Even crazier because that stranger was a 6’2” man who could’ve easily chopped me up, stuffed me in a duffel bag and tossed me over the edge of Lovers Leap without breaking a sweat.

Lovers Leap in St Elizabeth, Jamaica. A lookout point so high you can almost see the horizon curve (1700 ft). I took this photo in 2013 and jazzed it up with a dramatic filter for you.

I’m pretty sure the only thing that kept my mother from going off the deep end with worry was that the guy was a police officer. I guess she felt I’d be safer that way.