A different kind of Sunday

Starting to say goodbye

We are getting ready to say goodbye to Jamaica. This involves a great deal of physical work, mental calculations, and most of all - juggling with our emotions. As I have said before, I have two homes. And always will. Now saying goodbye to one, and who knows - it might be forever.

The day accelerated as we went along. As we begin our “downsizing” project - I feel we have only just started - I waded through stacks of CDs, sorted them and tidied up the remainder. Outside, a small army of young men were drastically cleaning the yard. Dust flying, rakes and brooms and saws working. Yes, I mean drastically. Still, the birds sang and the sun shines, now with its softer afternoon rays.

My husband was enjoying himself outside.

Inside, I was listening to “Takk” by Sigur Ros. They’re described as a “post rock” band from Iceland. I haven’t heard it in a while, and it reminds me, always, of the few days after my mother’s funeral in England. My brother and I drove to visit a relative of his in rural Wiltshire, one day in July. He put a CD in the car radio, and I heard Sigur Ros for the first time. The music swirled around me, comfortingly, sweetly.

It was a golden summer day, unusually hot. When we reached the relative’s home, I remember the trout in the clear stream at the bottom of his garden.

“Takk” means “Thank you.” I am giving thanks to Jamaica and to all that I will leave behind, with tears rising.