The Second-Generation Immigrant Ache to Travel to the Homeland of Our Parents
<p>I inhabit a region that meets the same Atlantic Ocean that cradles the island of Barbados on its eastern shores. The 2,000-mile distance and change in geography turns the clear beaches and sunny skies to gritty waters and nor’easters. I’m on an eastern coast with land that goes on forever toward the west, unlike the Caribbean Sea that would stop me on the western shores in Barbados if I traveled too far.</p>
<p>A cloth material has hung from the wall in the kitchen of my family’s home since I was a little girl. Anchored by a string looped into its border like a scroll, the bright painted image of Barbados is centered in the fabric with the words, “Island in the Sun” written beside it. An everyday reminder of my father’s homeland. His daily reminder of the land he left behind. A place we both feel destined to be displayed on a decorative piece that we have walked by thousands of times.</p>
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