Di Taxi Ride and Other Stories by Brenda Barrett

Author:Brenda Barrett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: short stories, funny stories, humorous, funny books, jamaican story, funny story, comical stories, funny books for children, jamaican authors, jamaican books
Publisher: Brenda Barrett

Love Letters From Yard

My whole family migrated to Atlanta when I was only three years old. It was the early eighties and there was an exodus to England and America

I am now in my late twenties and it seems as if everybody is going back to Jamaica. My grandparents said they wanted to die at home, that’s all they spoke about since they reached retirement age, so they left a year ago.

My aunts, uncles and even my parents were in various stages of packing to leave. They were tying up loose ends so that they could all make a mass migration back to the island. It’s as if they all had the Jamaican fever, that’s all they talk about these days.

My family was from the mountainous parish of Trelawny. Though I have not been back since my early years, they have created a picture of lush greenery and mountainous hillsides overflowing with yam, the blue Caribbean sea sparkling like jewels in the distance and the cool wind blowing through ones fingers, in my minds eye.

I was enraptured every time I heard the name Jamaica.

I was sitting in my Aunt’s library drooling over a painting she had done of her hometown in Jamaica; it was a market scene done in oil, of a little boy with a mountainous pile of yams before him.

I suddenly realized that my Aunt was in the other room feverishly putting things together to leave Atlanta for good. I was not immune to her sudden need for home, heat and island breezes. I could almost feel the sun on my skin.

She was the next one to leave; she made up her mind ages ago, but she felt as if she was not sufficiently financially independent. Besides, her house in Jamaica was not yet finished. Now she had the go-ahead and she was not wasting any time.

My Aunt was in her late thirties; she was incredibly attractive and had the warmest smile. We were more like sisters; after all she was the youngest for my grandparents.

“Aunt Beryl!” I yelled, as I saw her scurrying pass me with a small box wrapped in a pink bow.

“Yes Priscilla, I thought you came here to help me.”

“I was, I mean I did, I just feel as if I should be going with you. I want to go to Jamaica.”

“Honey you have a husband and children,” she reminded me.

“That’s true Beryl, why don’t you have a husband and kids to tie you down so that you can stay here with me?” I asked inquisitively.

It was always a puzzle to me. Why an attractive woman like Beryl opted to stay single. I was always at a loss when I thought about what life would be like without my children and husband. I pitied anyone who thought that a career was even a close second to family.

I expected her to give the standard reply, ‘because I am too busy for that sort of thing,’ when she said, “Pris…”

I looked up to see her sit in the couch before me.

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