Would A Boy Love Jamaica Or Hate It?

It's not Disneyland and I could never afford a fancy resort with built-in entertainment options.

Welcome to CHAPTER THREE 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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Days, weeks, and months had passed since my last intoxicating inhale of Caribbean air. Eleven months, to be exact. Life as I knew it continued, as dull as a fart. That’s a phrase my Nana used to say. As a boy mom, I never quite understood it because boy farts are far from dull.

I never gave up hope of going back to Jamaica someday, but I knew I’d want to include my son in the next adventure. It wasn’t fair to keep going on epic vacations without him when we hadn’t done one together in years.

Curtis was eleven at this point, and the real question was whether a pre-teen kid would even want to go to Jamaica. I highly doubted it. There are no rides, no video games, and certainly no other kids he’d relate to. I couldn’t afford to book us into a kid-friendly resort. We’d be more likely sleeping in a tent on the beach and eating coconuts after the cost of flying both of us down.

Every once in a while, I’d run subtle hints by him to see if he was remotely interested in going to a tropical island rather than a place like Disneyland, where most kids his age would rather go.

At first, he did not seem enthusiastic, so I held off on planning a Jamaican getaway for us.

However, remember those “Kristi needs to be in Jamaica” gods I mentioned after my first trip? Yeah, those guys paid me a little visit again with impeccable timing.