This story follows a young woman by the name of British whose mother was tragically murdered by sources unknown, this causes her to move back to Jamaica temporarily bringing back old flames she thought she already placed behind her.
Date started: Oc...
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Jamaica
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BRITISH SMITH|24
I was finally here, I was in Jamaica again after a year had passed. Who would have thought the last time I'd see my mom alive was over the phone?
I told her I'd see her in December since Christmas was her favourite time of the year but she died before experiencing all of the fun things I had planned for her.
She would have me fly out to see her and set up for the big feast she'd host at her home with various kinds of meals. Curry goat, stew peas, fried chicken and fried fish. Anything you wanted she had it cooked and dished out.
I couldn't fathom a Christmas without her asking me when I was going to have her grandbabies or when I'd stop scaring all the good men away and finally accept THE one.
Neva think she would ah gone so quickly.
The airport I traveled from was half empty because of my habit of being early for a flight, something my mom broke into me. Waking up at 3 A.M for a late flight was her thing, 'Betta safe than sorry' she used to say, this was a late evening flight though and for that, the plane would land during the night time in Jamaica.
If only I had one more minute with her.
"Yow, yow. Mumma mi cyaa get yuh numba?" The familiar sound of catcalls rang in my ear as I walked, my Airpods were firmly in place but I could very much hear the filthy things they were saying about me. Something that was too normalised in Jamaica.
You would love it here until you remember that men exist.
Welcome home I guess.
I looked at the time, 10:37 p.m est.
The car ride was quiet which was much to my liking since I honestly was far from in a speaking mood.
My family had sent a ride to come to get me at the airport and take me straight home but mi wid my nuff self decided to stop by KFC for a second. Anyone who has ever travelled knows for a fact that Jamaican-style KFC was better than all of them in the States.
It woulda crazy fi mi drive past one without ordering something caz KFC ah foreign taste like dem put chlorine inna e chicken.
When I entered the place it was half empty because it was almost 11 P.M and at this time most people prefer the drive-through, I chose the option that had less waiting. Driving from Mobay to Kingston wasn't an easy task, I felt like slept up curry and I wanted to stretch my legs with the short time I was given to myself.
