Well, I’m back from my trip to Dominica. The island was lovely, the people gracious and kind. My youngest daughter went with me, too, and got her first taste of Dominica. It was her first time snorkeling, and although she was nervous, she turned out to be a natural. I would wax poetic more about the island, but somehow it feels wrong to do so. Halfway through our visit there, the beautiful new baby of the couple we were visiting (old friends) was taken gravely ill. It seems more fitting to talk about lovely little Amela instead.

She was born almost two months ago, with lovely cafe mocha skin and deep blue eyes that appear to be very wise. Her hair is the silkiest thing these hands have ever touched; it curls softly all over her head. She is bright-eyed and watches everything around her, often with a knowing, skeptical stare. Occasionally, a corner of the room becomes utterly fascinating and she convinces me to watch it, too.

She likes good conversation, preferring to be spoken to directly; she listens intently, focusing on her companion’s mouth and then returning with a comment of her own, moving her mouth and tongue with gentle coos. She will be a great communicator or a beautiful singer, and with her whole body she tells you that she wants to be there already.

She also wants to smile–does so in her sleep–but has yet to form the genuine article, even though it tickles ever so lightly at the corners of her mouth. She is almost there–smiling with her eyes, especially at her parents: her mother who loves her so fiercely and completely, her father who can hardly bear to put her down.

Amela, beautiful girl, loves the palm trees in her yard. The light breezes of the afternoon make her lift her face and turn toward them. She favors the clicking fronds of palms, the beautiful singing of her mother and the heartbeat of her father.

Amela. There are many, many people wishing for your return to health, praying for you, sending you the best of all possible wishes, dreaming of the day we may have the chance to hear you sing and see you smile.






2 responses to “Dominica”

  1. katrina Avatar

    I’m so sorry to read this about your friends’ daughter. Sending thoughts of healing for her…


  2. Mary Akers Avatar

    Thank you, Kat. They are much needed and appreciated.

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