1. Freedom

"Come on! It's time to get up!" My mother hollers from down the hall. I groan sleepily as I turn over to look at the clock.

"Holy mother of God." I sigh as you rub my eyes. The clock reads '4:30 a.m.'.

"It's time to get up!" my mother calls again, this time closer than before. She walks into my room and pulls the covers down off me.

"Alright, I'm up, I'm up." I say, slowly sitting up.

"If you don't get up now, we're going to miss the plane." She continues, hurrying to her bedroom to get her suitcase. "You're packed, right?"

"Yes, mom." I reply with a grunt as I walk to the bathroom to get ready. "What time's our flight again?"

"Quarter to 7." She replies while lugging the suitcase down the hall.

Once my mother and I are ready to go, I glance outside for one last look at my Massachusetts backyard; everything still dark.

'I love waking up at the ass-crack of dawn' I think to myself as I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head out the door.

My mother and I arrive at Logan Airport, the international airport in Boston. I check in and walk down the E terminal to gate 51, where my flight to Kingston, Jamaica will be taking off at 6:45 a.m. It is the first flight to Jamaica this day. I smile, knowing I'm going to be away from the boring and lonely life I live here in Massachusetts. I sit down in the seat next to my mother and close my eyes, dreaming about the Caribbean. 'I can't believe I'm finally getting away from it all.' I think with satisfaction.

"Are you hungry?" My mother asks, realizing I hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

"Yeah." I reply with a smile.

"What do you want?" She asks, getting up from her seat.

"Anything." I reply. She nods and walks down the corridor of the terminal, searching for a place for breakfast…Dunkin' Donuts, perhaps. While alone, this time in an airport, I reflect on the year. 'Wow, I'm going into college,' I think, 'this is crazy…it feels like yesterday I was in high school thinking about how long it's gonna be until I graduate…and I did.'. I smile, knowing that despite the loneliness I am living now will soon be away from it all…not only when I am are down in the Caribbean, but when I get back at the end of the summer for college to begin in the fall. My acceptance into Elon University was the most exciting part of my senior year and I couldn't wait to get my ass outta the "tri-town" I lived in. I couldn't wait to make friends in a different state at a new school with different people. My high school years were great, they really were…but they were not what I were looking for. I had friends, but yet I felt lonely in my ideals, morals and beliefs. Perhaps I read too much Thoreau in English class junior year. Ever since I read Thoreau's "Walden Pond", I have wanted to live life simply and with nature. I believed that the society we lived in was awful and I couldn't wait to get away from all the misconceptions and falsifications of the United States. Ah yes…Jamaica is where I need to be. The Caribbean always seemed to offer what I needed—I'd been there before and loved every minute of it. The waves, the warm air and breeze, the palm trees…everything! I couldn't wait to arrive in paradise…

I close your eyes and dream of the perfect life I will soon be living down in the Caribbean. Just as I begin to get thinking about it, my mom comes back.

"I bought you a doughnut, honey." She says, sitting down and handing me a Dunkin' Donuts bag.

"Thanks mom." I smile and open the bag. Just as I begin to take a huge bight of my chocolate glazed doughnut, the stewardess makes an announcement.

"All passengers in possession of tickets with rows 50-45, please begin to board the aircraft."

"Oh! It's almost time for us!" I exclaim, suddenly excited about the trip.

"Not for a while." my mom says. "We're in row 22."

"Oh well." I reply…careful to not let my excitement get run down.

I remain seated until the stewardess finally calls our row.

"All rows 30-15, please board the aircraft."

"That's us!" I exclaim, jumping up.

Once on board the airplane, I take my seat, making my mom sit in the window seat. Window seats always make me a little queasy. I have butterflies beyond belief and I cannot even comprehend that in 3 hours and 45 minutes that I will be residing in paradise for the entire summer. I close my eyes, put on my headphones and lay back. The plane takes off and I smile, knowing that when I awake, I will be hovering over the clear blue waters of the Caribbean.

"Attention passengers, welcome to Kingston, Jamaica. We will be landing shortly. The weather is sunny and is about 85 degrees Fahrenheit. There is a warm breeze from the west and we are currently running ahead of scheduled time. Enjoy your stay in Jamaica." The pilot says. I wake from my soft slumber after hearing this, and I smile. I turn to my mother.

"We're here!"

"I'll have to call Uncle Tony and Aunt Kathy to pick us up if we're here earlier." my mother says, taking out her cell phone, getting ready to make the call when we would land. I nod my head, thinking about my aunt and uncle's gorgeous house right outside Kingston, in a town called Port Royal. I'd been there before, a few times in the past, but never for the entire summer. Usually, it would only be for a couple weeks, or during a school vacation of some sort.

The plan lands and my mom and I get off the plane. My mom calls my relatives while we walk through the airport to the baggage claim. I take my suitcases and walk with my mother to the street to be picked up by Kathy and Tony.

"How was your flight?" My aunt asks my mother.

"Good," my mom replies. "There was a little turbulence as we passed over the D.C. area, but it all smoothed out by the time we hit the Carolinas."

"That's good." She replies with a smile. I love my aunt—she's my favorite aunt…not only because she lives down in the Caribbean, but, because she's the one who has always been there for me. Ever since my parents got divorced, she has been the only aunt I have seen…or that has made the effort to see me.

When we arrive to the house, Kathy shows me to my room. It's my favorite room in the entire house, mostly because of its amazing view of the ocean. Once in the room, I drop my bags and flop down on the bed. I close my eyes, but decide that it's too nice of a day to waste away sleeping. I get up and walk over to the window with the view of the ocean and step outside to the balcony. As I gaze out to the endless blue in front of me, tears begin to well up in my eyes. All I want from my life is freedom—freedom to live the way I want and freedom from everything that's holding me back. Quickly, I come in from the balcony and change into my bathing suit. My first freedom of the day…sunbathing on my aunt and uncle's private beach. Man! If only I could live there everyday of my life.

Once on the beach, I lay down my towel and take a seat. I stare at the ocean before me, amazed by its everlasting beauty. The thought of previous times come to mind. I wonder if the Caribbean always was this beautiful, and I decide that it most likely was. The thought of pirates crosses my mind. I always wanted to be a pirate—I admired how they feared nothing and how they lived freely. They lived short lives, but their lives were well spent. I envied how pirates had no fear in the consequences they took after being captured—they just merely accepted them, and were glad for the lives they lived. I wanted to be free like a pirate. I lie down and close my eyes. The warm breeze gives me goose bumps all over and I smile as I run my hands through the white, hot sand. Nothing could be better than being down in the Caribbean.

That night, I sit out on the balcony with my journal in hand, taking in the cooling, yet still warm breeze. The sound of the constant waves from the ocean mesmerizes me and stimulates me so to write. I'd always loved writing, and tonight, I decide to begin writing a poem…perhaps that I will later create to be a song. Thankfully, my room is in the western wing of my aunt and uncle's house…and everyone else's rooms are in the east wing. Feeling energized and rejuvenated by the nature that surrounds me, I seek out the antique piano that is so conveniently placed in the room. I sit at the bench for a brief moment, and then begin to play harmonious chords, completely improvised. The sounds engulf my soul as you continue to play, and it's as though I can feel the notes circling around me, and then out the open door to the balcony. Surely the ocean could hear my playing music. The melody was sad and fit perfectly with the lyrics I had written earlier on the balcony. I could almost hear this melody being played in a previous time—a 17th century string quartet could have played this at a wedding or some other occasion. After what only feels like a few moments of playing, I realize it is way past 1 a.m. and decide to go to bed.

The following day, I awaken to the sun of a new day. The curtains around the door to the balcony are blowing in the breeze, for I had forgotten to shut the door last night. I rise from your bed and walk out onto the balcony. I take in the fresh air and commence back to your room. I finally felt free…but something was missing. I wasn't exactly able to put my finger on it…but something was truly missing. 'I know what I'll do today…I'll go for a trip down town,' I think to myself as I dress yourself and make myself ready for the day.

Downtown is awesome. I walk the streets of Port Royal, Jamaica as though it is my backyard. I feel comfortable amongst the native peoples of Jamaica and feel that I belong very well down here. I go in and out of different shops, testing different kinds of rum, looking at jewelry and reading books about pirates. I walk out to the street and see that it has gotten much more crowded than it was when I first arrived.

"Wannabuyacoconut? Wannabuyacoconut?" A man is walking down the street with a plastic bag filled with coconuts asking people if they would like to buy one. Feeling kinder than the other people who just pass him buy, I decide to buy one.

"I'll take one." I say, and hand him a dollar. He smiles and nods and continues his bargaining of the coconuts. From that point on, he would be known as 'coconut man'. The sun is beginning to get high in the sky and I feel my stomach give a growl; it's time for lunch. I walk down a street that has a lonely looking shop, in search of a place for food. Upon passing by this shop, I decide to take a stop by. Something about it makes me curious, so I step inside. Inside of the shop, there are tons and tons of music books. In the far corner, there is a piano and tons of sheet music. Interested in the music, and seeing that no one is at the counter, I walk over to the piano and begin to play something that I had written a while ago.

"You play dat well, child." Says a voice from behind. I turn around quickly, startled briefly by the voice. I see a rather larger woman and she smiles at me.

"Thank you." I reply, sincerely.

"Would you like a jab 'ere, girl?" She asks. "You play mah piano for customers?"

"Sure! I'd love to." I don't know why I suddenly agreed to play for this woman, but something about her made me feel comfortable.

"People 'ere call me Momma Dalia, child." She tells me. She makes sure I call her that, and immediately I feel at home. Rather than going to find some place for food, she offers me a fruit salad she had just made. I eat the salad with her, and agree to come back the following day for work.

Feeling appreciated in this town makes me feel extremely happy. When I arrive back to my aunt's house, I find that nobody is home. I immediately go out to the beach and absorb the setting sun. It reflects brilliantly off the pulsating ocean and I slip into a trance. I don't realize that I have actually fallen asleep until I awaken and find myself lying on the sand with the moon above me. I brush the sand off and walk back inside. I go quietly up the stairs to my room and shut the door. Feeling inspired, I go out to the balcony and write some lyrics down on a sheet of paper. I then make your way back into the room and take a seat at the piano. I begin to play and put music to the words I have just written. I'll probably play this at Momma Dalia's store tomorrow. After writing the notes down on manuscript paper, I perfect my piece from the previous night. It is once again, past 1 a.m. when I finally decide to go to bed. That night, I dream wonderful dreams of pirates, the open seas, music…and freedom.