Chasing rainbows on the morning bus route.
Shades on the ocean
Little kids referring to me as "Miss"
Rasta men constantly saying "one love", "respect" and "bless up"
Conductors on the bus knowing where I live without having to knock at my stop.
The drunken men at the rum shop calling me royalty.
Late night BBQ on Wall Street.
Snow ice
Fridays at The Centre. Laughing, joking and talking nonsense.
Lazy Sunday's full of reflection.
Running into people I havent seen in a while and them remembering my name.
Receiving packages full of goodies.
Bus rides through the countryside.
Early morning wake up calls from Earths creatures.
The "morning", "afternoon" and "goodnight" greetings.
The smiles on the children's faces when they see me.
Being asked why I'm white by students.
The sounds of an approaching storm.
Looking out my veranda and seeing the ocean and beautiful horizon.
The constant noise of my fan, that rocks me to sleep at night.
Market vendors, eager to sell their fresh, organic produce. And the lady who always gives me an extra tomato.
Green. It's everywhere.
The accents, the dialect and the lingo I've grown comfortable speaking in.
The friendships that I will cherish forever.
The free time to reflect on your life, where you want to go and who you want to be.
I will soon be departing you my sweet Grenada, but you will forever be my second home.
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