Homecoming Scenes: Steady or Speedy?

One of my greatest “character flaws” is how quickly I am willing to change approach.

I could spend weeks preparing the chapter for a story, I’d find myself; researching subject details, rereading progress from different mindsets, rehearsing voices, mapping out subtle character developments, writing multiple chapter endings and so on… before I’d come to finish the final sentence with a satisfied smile.

Then, as the inspiration takes me, I could write the following chapter in precisely an hour and barely cast a look over it through sheer confidence.

In that moment, I’d feel a beaming warmth of pride for myself at the speed of my work and I’d almost certainly enjoy that 1 hour chapter more than the last.

But doesn’t that give the impression I didn’t enjoy the long approach? How sad. No that’s not it.

Neither way is better or more enjoyable than the other by default; it’s more about how I feel within myself in the moment that I’m ready to progress with something and do so wholeheartedly.

Sometimes we need a dozen more steps to ensure we are following the right processes and covering all bases, other times there are just 2 steps total and the mission is 100% complete.

This thought comes to mind as I lay sprawled out by the window, savouring the tropical climate, at my home in Jamaica.

Home.

It’s important for me to note that I was born and raised in Great Britain. Naturally, I have referred to that land as Home for many years and yes I continue to do so in many contexts.

But I have always known that the weather there wasn’t right for my spirit.

Of course; weather again. We’re going with the most British topic known to man.

The weather just wasn’t right for my spirit.

Believe me: I TRIED and, once you learn to survive the cold, there is much to find “homey” about the place & culture of Great Britain; even more so for the quirks of the United Kingdom … in a broader sense.

Just like those days when I’m writing that I feel like I am doing the absolute most to pull my conception together; there are days I feel like I’ve cracked the code to being British through my perseverance and appreciation for the littler, more intimate things.

Days I’ve laughed with my peoples til my belly couldn’t take any more, days I’ve savoured chips & chip sauce; licking my lips as if I’ll never eat again, days I’ve been so proud to have achieved everything on my list - despite how much I’ve wanted to wrap up in bed to wait out the cold all month.

But that all fades into a hazy dream when my feet touch down on Jamaican soil, as the final chill leaves my body and I remember who I really am.

JAMAICA.

Touching down for me is like waking up from a bad but tolerable dream.

You’re gonna see it a lot from me, but I truly believe through all that I’ve experienced that duality is at the core of being.

The above is of the below and the below is of the above.

So I can’t help but wonder sometimes, and I suppose we could reason together over how much of this an inherited trauma from the atrocities of the “British Empire”; but I can’t help but wonder sometimes if my experience of having a dual heritage between JA & GB is like living between mirrored worlds.

Neither are perfect, neither are dreadful… but you know in your heart that one of them is, or should be, the “original” and one is the “copy”

Right?

Am I wording that right?

Am I making this make sense?

I am so very British, that is the truth.

But Good Lord; I am a Jamaican woman through to the heart.

British is life is slow to warm, quick to pass.

Jamaican life is long to chill, slow to pass.

Both have their perks, both brings their smiles, both are rooted in my family bloodline.

So very similar and somehow nothing alike.

Would I have it anyway?

I doubt that.

Saying that… Mama Africa calls sweet…