Someday

I know he would never go back to the island he belongs to. The surge and the turmoil he fought against. Does he think of her often? Of her rolling hills and beautiful shore line, or does he think about the streets he knew, the ones he sold roasted peanuts on…..The fields he played baseball on, The smell of fresh grass or the wisp of the salty sea surrounding her.

I want to meet her. I want to walk my fathers streets and dive into her deep sea. I want to taste the flavors of my childhood and now my children’s. I wish I could go with him . Maybe in our dreams we will.

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