To be honest, that title is a little misleading. I didn’t actually find this paradise. I was born there. There are 3 Caribbean islands that make up the Bay Islands, Utila, Roatan and Guanaja and Utila is where my family is from. In fact, the island I was born on isn’t technically an island but a cay near Utila. It’s only a few miles in length and width but there’s nothing small about the heart of this community.

When my American friends see pictures of where I’m from, they are amazed and inevitably exclaim, “Mary, your island is paradise!” And nothing could be truer. In every sense of the word, it is a paradise. It’s only been in the last 15 years or so that we have acquired 24-hour electricity or even indoor plumbing. When I would go home for a visit as a teenager, it was like going back in time. Everything slowed down to island pace. There were no cable TV or cell phones so the word “unplugged” doesn’t begin to describe what it was like. It was wonderful. And even now that we have caught up with all that technology offers, there’s still a feeling of being secluded from the outside world.

But by far, the best part of being home was family. My days are spent visiting my aunt at her grocery store, the main gathering place for the locals and tourists alike. You can go in and purchase just a teaspoon of this or that, one aspirin, a half of a Coke, or a slice of ham, a throwback from the many years of no refrigeration in the homes of the locals. These days she offers shelf after shelf of items from Wal-Mart now that one opened up on the mainland. My favorite thing in her shop, though, was the pastries and breads baked by the local women. You haven’t tasted real bread until you’ve tried a hot coconut bread made from fresh coconut milk. The only thing to make it even better is to slather it with sweet homemade mango or guava jam. The rest of the time is spent visiting with my other aunts, uncles and cousins, eating, talking and laughing. Time seems to stand still here. A week here feels so much longer, until that last day which flies by and you’re left wishing you could stay longer.

Everyone on our island works so very hard to make a living. Most of the men are fishermen by trade but the fish are getting more and more scarce. Education for the children ends at 12th grade but the challenge is giving the young men and women who want to remain on the island and study, a way to do so. University classes are offered on the mainland but besides it being cost prohibitive, the increasing violence there is a deterrent. Honestly, one of my “dream big” goals for this year is to find a way to bring online university classes to our islands. Education is power and these young people need to know that they are worth fighting for and that they can empower themselves for their future.

Traditionally, the locals are up very early and tend to go to bed very early, from the days where there was no electricity or cable or Facebook! For those lucky enough to live near the water, their views are like something out of a travel magazine. Palm trees, blue ocean with different hues, ocean breezes and the smell of salt water is what greets you each morning. And breathtaking moonlit skies and the sound of the ocean lapping against the docks, lull you to sleep at night. But most everyone takes a break after lunch (which they call dinner) during the hottest part of the day for a few hours. The shops also close during this siesta, allowing its owners some respite from the heat.

Church is the bedrock of these islanders and even my little cay offers a variety of denominations to choose from. Saturday and Sunday mornings are filled with the sound of beautiful church bells ringing, signaling the start of Sunday School or morning services. Joyous singing can be heard all over the islands coming through the open windows. Most of the churches still use the old hymnals for worship service, a lovely sound that brings me back to my early childhood. It was during those midday breaks that I would sit under my Granny’s house (the houses are all on stilts). I would swing in her hammock and make up my own melodies to the songs in her hymnal.

 As I write this blog post, I am on the Cays, sitting on my family’s porch listening to the neighbors cleaning and washing clothes, discussing what to cook for dinner, children laughing as they pass on their skateboards, smelling freshly caught fish being fried. I’m here to say goodbye to my Granny, as God has decided her race is over on this earth. She passed away a day before her 93rd birthday. My heart is broken and I fear it may never fully mend but I know that she is in a place where she will no longer feel the effects of age. God was merciful in her passing and for that I will ever be grateful. As I sit and write this, I hear in the distance the sound of a boat coming in and the waves crashing against the seawall.

And I think to my self, it is so good to be home.