My name is Sarah, and my life started with tragedy. When I was two years old, my mother died in a terrible car accident, and soon after, my father left us. My grandparents stepped in, becoming my guardians and the center of my world. They supported me through life’s challenges and helped me graduate high school, enabling me to attend a prestigious college.
Graduation day was filled with excitement. I had always dreamed of this moment, imagining my grandparents watching proudly as I received my diploma. I thought about how this achievement was for them, a recognition of their love and sacrifices.
As I walked toward the ceremony, a man unexpectedly called my name. He looked kind yet weathered, and though I didn’t recognize him, something about him felt familiar. He introduced himself as my father, which shocked me since I believed he had abandoned us when I was young.
He shared that he had been searching for me, claiming my grandparents had kept me from him. He showed me a photo of us together from my childhood, and confusion filled my mind. I had been told he left us. He then revealed messages from my grandmother urging him to stay away, deepening my sense of betrayal.
I was torn between anger and sadness, questioning why my grandparents would lie to me. I turned to see them waving in the crowd, blissfully unaware of my turmoil. Overwhelmed, I walked toward them, my feelings boiling over.
I demanded that they leave, my voice shaking with emotion. My grandmother’s smile faded as she asked what was wrong, her eyes filling with tears. My grandfather looked shocked and asked to talk, but I shouted that they had lied about my father for years and that I couldn’t believe it. My father put a comforting hand on my shoulder, acknowledging how hard this was for me.
After the ceremony, I sat with my father in a quiet café, both of us sipping cold coffee as I asked him to explain everything. He revealed that when my parents were together, my grandparents disapproved of him, believing he wasn’t good enough for my mother. The tension between them grew after I was born.
I wanted to understand why he hadn’t tried to find me sooner. He showed me more harsh messages from my grandmother, revealing their protective yet misleading nature. I learned that my father had always wanted to be part of my life but had been kept away. I asked why he had come to my graduation, and he explained he found out about it from an old friend. He wanted to see me and celebrate my success, hoping it was finally time to reconnect.
As I processed his words, the weight of my grandparents’ deception and the sudden appearance of my father sank in. Graduation had brought more than a diploma; it revealed truths that would forever change my family dynamics. I realized I needed time to sort through these revelations and figure out my relationships with both my father and the grandparents who had raised me with good intentions but under a shroud of secrecy.
This Caribbean Island Is Back From the Brink—and Ready To Share Its Treasures With the World
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The paintings of Italian-born artist Agostino Brunias, who made a profession of depicting the island in subdued, stylized settings that covered up the harsh realities of colonial control, were my first visual introduction to Dominica. However, as soon as I step onto its winding roads, which begin to twist shortly after I arrive, it becomes evident that this region, which is situated in the center of the Lesser Antilles’ curve, is anything but tame. The two-toned leaves of its bois canot trees, which change color from green to white when they sway in the wind, shimmer and bristle with the power of the volcano. It lulls with the erratic sound of its numerous waterfalls, scatters rainbows haphazardly across its breathtaking horizons, and enchants from the depths with its vibrant coral reefs. And it roars come storm season.
The indigenous Kalinago people of Dominica survived invasion by the French and British, who imposed slavery on the Africans who now make up four-fifths of the island’s population and left a linguistic legacy of English and French-based Creole, by mastering the lush tropical rainforest that covers more than 60% of the island. If you visit Trinidad for roti and Jamaica for jerk, you should travel to Dominica for green things like bush rum and flower teas. There are a ton of medicinal herbs in the forest.
The Jungle Bay Dominica resort, located smack dab in the center of the Soufrière jungles, leans into nature instead, maybe realizing the futility of fighting against the earth’s generosity. When I finally get there, the kitchen is closed. Joanne Hilaire, the operations manager, tells me that they never let guests go hungry, though, so I can feel the warmth of Dominica’s welcome. The cook is preparing an excellently stewed dish of beans with taro, rice, and plantain for our late dinner, off the menu, while I have a refreshing ginger-lime cocktail that is a local favorite. When I wake up the following morning, I find that my villa’s doors open onto a private veranda that faces southwest toward Soufrière Bay, where the Caribbean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean converge. I let the light wake me for the remainder of my stay by leaving my blinds open.
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