I am from the stainless-steel stockpot,
from GOYA’s chicken bouillon and coconut milk.
I am from the humble, vibrant kitchen,
the sizzle of onions and the aroma of thyme.
I am from the mango trees in the backyard,
the vibrant yellow five fingers hanging by the porch.
I am from the Sunday gatherings filled with laughter,
and the warmth of an ever-expanding, loving family,
from Desborn and Glenda and the Trimminghams.
I am from the generosity, where everything is shared among us,
and the instinct to lend a hand to anyone, family or not, in times of need
From “you’re very bright”
and “you always have to be the star of the show.”
I am from Seventh day Adventist church,
growing up finding out God was the reason behind my families “unlimited love and forgiveness”.
I’m from Brooklyn, New York,
with dumpling soup and fried bakes.
From when my grandma kneaded dough with all her strength and pure concentration in her eyes,
the love she puts in her foods because she knows how much everyone, all her children and grandchildren would enjoy it,
and the determination my mother had to take care of all three of her children
I am from kitchen walls, nightstands and center tables decorated with family portraits
and the basement where a cardboard box holds our memories,
filled with photo albums documenting generations of joy.
Each turn of a page reveals our family’s laughter and bonds,
captured where it all began, St. Vincent and the Grenadines.
The albums overflow with photographs of our roots,
showing how close our parents, uncles and aunts used to be,
Each telling a story of resilience and hope.
