Page 3 of Jamaican Me Crazy Mon

I call my boss at the Sentinel and tell her that I am taking a sabbatical. After everything that has happened recently, I am burnt out and need a break. I tell her that I have booked my trip and will be leaving in four weeks. That gives us time to find someone to ghostwrite my column before I leave and me time to get them acclimated to my writing style.

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Looking for a ghostwriter to fill in while I am on sabbatical is adding more stress to my burnout. I will be so happy when I can get on that plane. I have never felt like this before. I really need to decompress.

As my sabbatical in Montego Bay progresses, a sense of tranquility settles within me. The sun-kissed beaches and vibrant culture have woven their magic, rejuvenating my spirit and allowing me to find solace in the present moment. However, there’s a nagging thought in the back of my mind—a responsibility that still lingers despite my distance from the Miami Sentinel. My column.

With a heavy heart, I realize that I cannot fully detach from my role as a journalist. The Miami Sentinel relies on my weekly insights, and leaving a void in my absence is not an option. Determined to find a solution, I reach out to my boss, Mr. Thompson, and propose the idea of bringing in a ghostwriter to pen my column while I’m on sabbatical.

To my surprise, Mr. Thompson agrees, seeing it as an opportunity to explore new perspectives and maintain the continuity of the column. We embark on the search for the perfect ghostwriter—a talented individual who can seamlessly step into my shoes and capture the essence of my writing style.

Together, Mr. Thompson and I schedule a series of interviews with potential candidates. The first applicant is a seasoned journalist named Rebecca Simmons, known for her thought-provoking pieces on social justice issues. We sit in Mr. Thompson’s office, anxiously waiting for Rebecca to arrive.

When Rebecca walks through the door, there’s an air of confidence about her. She exudes a quiet intelligence and carries herself with a poised grace. As we engage in conversation, I can’t help but admire her eloquence and the way her eyes light up when discussing the power of storytelling.

Rebecca shares her vision for the column, emphasizing the importance of staying true to its core values while infusing her own unique perspectives. She understands the delicate balance between honoring the established readership and bringing fresh insights to the table. It’s clear that she has done her research and possesses a genuine passion for journalism.

As the interview progresses, I find myself increasingly convinced that Rebecca might just be the perfect fit. Her ideas align with my own, and I can envision her seamlessly stepping into my role, breathing new life into the column. A sense of relief washes over me, knowing that my absence will not leave a void but instead open doors for exciting new possibilities.

I glance at Mr. Thompson, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes—a silent agreement that Rebecca is indeed a strong contender. He leans back in his chair, contemplating our conversation.

“Rebecca, we appreciate your enthusiasm and your evident commitment to journalistic integrity,” Mr. Thompson begins.

“If you were to step into Keisha’s role, what would your responsibilities entail?”

Rebecca leans forward, her voice steady and confident. “First and foremost, I would honor the spirit of Keisha’s column, ensuring that its essence remains intact. I would diligently research and present compelling topics that align with the readership’s interests. With Keisha’s guidance, I would strive to capture her unique voice while infusing my own perspectives to provide a fresh take on current issues.

I nod in agreement, impressed by Rebecca’s understanding of the delicate balance required for this undertaking. It’s reassuring to know that she recognizes the importance of maintaining the connection with our readers while bringing her own touch to the column.

Mr. Thompson leans forward, his gaze shifting between us. “Keisha, what are your thoughts on Rebecca taking over your column during your sabbatical?”

A mixture of emotions swirl within me. There’s a twinge of reluctance, an attachment to something I’ve poured my heart and soul into for so long. But beneath that hesitation, there’s also a sense of excitement—an opportunity for growth, for someone else to share their unique perspectives with our readers. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before responding.

“Mr. Thompson, I believe Rebecca has the skills and passion necessary to uphold the integrity of my column while infusing it with her own voice. I trust her ability to engage our readers and deliver thought-provoking content. While it’s not easy for me to step back, I understand the importance of allowing the column to evolve and embrace new perspectives. I believe Rebecca is the right person to take on this responsibility.”

A smile spreads across Mr. Thompson’s face, a sign of his approval. “Excellent. It seems we’re all in agreement then. Rebecca, welcome to the team.”

Rebecca’s face lights up with a mixture of gratitude and excitement. “Thank you both. I’m honored to have this opportunity and I look forward to working closely with Keisha to ensure a smooth transition.”

With the decision made, we dive into the specifics of the arrangement. We discuss deadlines, communication channels, and the collaborative nature of our partnership. It’s important for me to stay involved in the process, to provide guidance and share my insights while allowing Rebecca the freedom to explore her own ideas.

As our conversation unfolds, a sense of relief washes over me. I realize that by entrusting my column to a talented and passionate writer like Rebecca, I can truly embrace my sabbatical and the journey of self-discovery it offers. The weight of responsibility begins to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of liberation.

Leaving Mr. Thompson’s office, I feel a sense of anticipation for the next chapter of my sabbatical. I know that while I may be physically distant from the Miami Sentinel, a part of me will still be there, carried forward by the words and insights of Rebecca and the continuation of the column.

As I walk along the sun-drenched shores of Montego Bay, a gentle breeze caressing my skin, I can’t help but feel grateful for the unexpected twists and turns that life brings. Change can be daunting, but it also carries the potential for growth and transformation. And in this moment, I embrace the unknown, eager to witness the evolution of my column and the journeys it will take readers on under Rebecca’s capable pen.

Chapter 5

Llanzo Trying to Move On

Istand at the helm of my boat, the warm Caribbean breeze caressing my face as I guide the vessel through the crystal clear waters. The vibrant hues of turquoise and emerald surround me, a kaleidoscope of colors that only serves as a stark contrast to the darkness that resides within my heart. It has been two years since my beloved wife passed away, and not a day goes by without feeling the deep ache of her absence.

Losing her was like losing a part of myself, a void that cannot be filled no matter how hard I try. Her laughter, her touch, her unwavering support—I cherish every memory, holding them close to my soul like fragile treasures. But the pain of her loss still lingers, a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the harsh realities that we all must face.

In the wake of her passing, I buried myself in my work, dedicating my time and energy to the excursion company we built together. The turquoise waters that once brought us joy and serenity now serve as a constant reminder of the dreams we had shared, the adventures we had embarked upon. I find solace in the routine, the daily tasks that keep me occupied and distract my mind from the painful memories.

Owning the excursion company has become my refuge, a way to fill the void and find a semblance of purpose in this new chapter of my life. I pour myself into every aspect of the business, ensuring that every excursion is meticulously planned, every guest’s experience unforgettable. The smiles on their faces and the joy in their voices momentarily lift the weight from my shoulders, allowing me to find moments of respite amidst the tumultuous sea of grief.

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