I have two homes

And I love them both

I know there are chambers in the heart. The heart is divided, physically.

They also say “Home is where the heart is.” A cliché, I know, but my heart is increasingly in two places.

I have not posted for about six weeks. We were in England, where I was born and grew up, and where most of my family as well as good friends live.

Just over a week ago, I was daydreaming in a café in a London park, near to where our son lives. Quiet piano music played in the background. It was a gentle summer’s day. The kind Polish lady served customers. Some were sitting in the sun outside, reading, chatting. A tiny old gentleman came in, picked up his lunch, and was later seen enjoying it on a bench, with friends.

All that sounds perfect, I know. And it was. This is one of my “two homes.”

Now we are back to reality, both battling COVID for the first time (which we either contracted on the plane coming back, or perhaps in England before we left). The entire island is recovering from Hurricane Beryl,* which arrived in Jamaica four days after we did and has wrought incredible destruction in many parts of the island, especially the southern areas. Here in the city we were relatively unscathed, but in rural towns and beyond the picture is utterly grim. People are desperate, many having lost all or part of their homes, without water or electricity. Reports are not exaggerated but perhaps the tip of the iceberg.

It was far from pleasant, returning to my “second home.” Living in Jamaica, even for the relatively privileged as we are, is an unremitting struggle to hold things together, and increasingly so. We managed quite well when we were younger; now we are senior citizens, much less so. But the green hills enfolded us as we drove from the airport. I felt I could pick every leaf. Our dogs’ ecstatic welcome also comforted.

OK. Our long sojourn in England was a “holiday” of sorts - a family reunion, a bit of a sightseeing tour, a beautiful stay outside London. I will write more of my thoughts on this in later posts. However, it was more than a holiday: it was also reconnecting and spending “quality time” with our son and his partner, meeting up with all the young members of our family for the first time, and spending time with my sister and her husband. It was a joy.

I am not looking at either of my homes through rose-coloured glasses, however. I have seen the harsh sides of English and Jamaican society, but also many things that I love. My husband feels just the same way.

But for myself, I know my heart is divided. Those two chambers will never merge.

At some point, I might enter one of them fully.

• If you would like to donate funds to help Jamaicans whose lives have been devastated by Hurricane Beryl, you may donate to the international charity Food for the Poor, which has a strong presence and does great work in Jamaica. Further details here. American Friends of Jamaica, a registered charity, is also collecting donations and needs more funds. Go to their website here. Both are highly reputable organisations that you can trust.

Residents look at a damaged drain in Shooters Hill, Jamaica, in the aftermath of Hurricane Beryl on July 4,2024. Ricardo Makyn/AFP via Getty Images...