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a Caribbean island is the best childhood you could give them, but my column doesn’ t allow for more than what I told you so far. I am already way past the 1,000 words maximum I promised myself for this issue.
It pains me to hear expats say things like“ we’ re moving because of the kids’ education”. To me there is nothing more educational than playing outside with friends, using your imagination instead of the latest electronic gadget to entertain yourself with. Growing up on an island meant running around barefoot, making mud pies whenever it rained, playing with marbles in the dirt and spending long days at the beach and never leaving the water, unless it was for a sip of juice, a bite of sweet bread and cheese or a chicken leg from the barbecue grill usually operated by an uncle. Getting scared by old folklore stories of Èzè and other island monsters told by aunts, uncles or older cousins, while sitting outside on the deck at night. It was sleeping with the windows open, it was having your backyard as your own kingdom and it was respect for anyone older than yourself.
Yes, looking back I had the best childhood. Growing up island, back then especially, was simple, fun and above all safe. It’ s an experience like no other and that I certainly wish more kids could have.
Riselle