A Taste of Home

There is something about the fireplace that pulls you in, the way death pulls you back home. This isn’t a sad story, but a story of mirth and warmth found in moving towards each other.

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Tiff was born on the island of Jamaica, where she didn’t need the fireplace as much as she does now, living in Great Britain. But Grandma Sue, used the wood fire to cook the meals when Tiff was back home, their relationship was as thick as thief’s whenever her mother would go to work.

Her grandmother would clean the red floors, and Tiff would wash their clothes by hand. Both of them would go to the farm and harvest its produce, washing and peeling them together.

Her mother would bring ice -cream home and she would be driveling before bringing her in for a hug —slippers would be shuffling in the red dirt, island life was good to her.

If she was downcast, there was always the mango tree in the front yard to climb and to jump down, when the lizard was after her.

There was always her cousins too, who would irk her but whom she loved dearly.

Times were good and when they weren’t, they had each other.

There was a buzzing sound like a fly trapped somewhere, they both couldn’t tell if it was near the cup on the table or inside their ear, although it would leave a tickle; it made them look at each other like old friends, noticing the same thing.

That was until her mother farted.

‘Don’t screw yuh face up, passing wind is a normal ting’

They both laughed owing to her mothers loud and stinky, IBS symptom.

At that moment the redolent and savoury smell of the hickory wood brought the moth along now sitting on her wool jumper. The house didn’t seem too quiet or void anymore.

The moth chose its second landing place, on a photo of someone standing next to Tiff — against the white textured wallpaper.

Tiff hadn’t told her mother what really brought her home.

GIPHY

She fiddled with her lip balm, now rolling it under her palm on the carpet while the crackling filled the room, grounding her to the present. Although her eyes, dark —darting towards where the kitchen would be. Remembering that the meal they had prepared was waiting for them.

The aroma of the gungo peas with coconut milk, scallion, ground provision —the famous scotch bonnet —manifesting itself by the simple thought of it. But that wasn’t all they had, it was just Tiffs favourite, her gungo peas soup.

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The smell of home made her eyes sting and her eyelashes clumped together, this time she wasn’t wearing mascara. The sheen caused by her tears made her mothers eyes well up. Both of their faces twinkle before the glow of the fire, fragmented secret thoughts lingered behind their eyes.

Although hard to reach.

‘Mummy said shi wish you were home… shi told mi dat last week,’

‘I haven’t been…coming around as often, not because I… didn’t want to. Life is not simple, I can’t just explain it away either’ her words came out mournful and slow.

They did not do much talking when they were cooking, they were too focused on getting it all set; and for some reason that was enough for them.

‘I told yuh living alone isn’t a bed of roses,‘

‘Sure mom, but…do you remember pinkie? she’s go-one, yesterday morning, sickness took her…‘

Tears started coming down like a waterfall in haste.

‘Pinkie from Craft Town?’

‘…How can I think of my childhood the same now mom?’

‘ I am sure you miss and love her, but I am still alive.’

Pinkie died in Jamaica where her grandmother still resides. Tiff wanted to go home to visit her grandmother at some point, but the death of pinkie seems to be a stumbling block.

‘I know I….s-s-should look at what I still have…’

‘Yes man, that’s more like it. But Tiff…I care that you’re hurting yuh know… death not easy, but just let mi bi there for you is all I am saying Tiff,’

‘It’s alright mom.’

The draft let itself in, like a bride without her groom, but not too soon. The snow outside was building, the white and pure tapestry —painting a world very different from her childhood, but ethereal just the same as though it would vanish.

Inside they were building warmth with a bit of chill in Tiffs heart, hoping it will all melt away, soon enough. But who knows, perhaps that moth was her friend, coming to say goodbye.

THE END

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