MADHU stood on the Parika Wharf, looking across the mighty Essequibo River, the third largest in South America. A glint of excitement shone in her eyes, the sound of the rolling waves, like music that brought a smile to her lips.
Home was on one of the three hundred and sixty-five islands that made up the Essequibo. A place she would not exchange for anywhere else in the world, though she had migrated to America twenty-two years ago, and it lived in her heart every day, for only one place could be home.

The island of Wakenaam!
The speed boat operator called to say they were ready to leave, and she stepped cautiously down the ramp. She was not that young girl anymore who made regular trips across the river on speed boats, sometimes braving the rain and rough waters.
She was now a mature woman in her early forties and mother of two young adult children.

“Time has really moved on,” she mused, “Can’t believe my last trip was so long ago.”
Her heart had ached so deeply that tears had flowed non-stop down her face, but because it had been raining slightly, no one knew how much she cried that night as the boat left her island home.
Now, she sat back and inhaled deeply as the boat sped across the river, riding the waves deftly, the impact as it lifted and hit the water, sending a thrill through her body.
“Gosh, I really miss this!” she said to her cousin who had travelled with her.

“So do I!” she responded.
Madhu had never returned since she left because of her husband’s regular travels to other countries due to his job, then the children were born, and her part-time job as a librarian did not give her much free time. But now, with her responsibilities eased, it was time to visit home.
The boat reached and, stepping out onto the wharf, she literally ran up to the top and stretched out her arms with a cry of joy.

“I am home again, my sweet paradise!”
A sign a little way ahead read boldly, ‘Welcome to Wakenaam’.
She stood by the sign, which was a proud moment for her, and called to her cousin, “This is where we start, and I want pictures of everything!”
“Sure, this will be fun.”

On the drive, along the way, she recaptured in her mind the farming life of the rice, coconut and plantain farms. The modern houses were beautiful, a change to the landscape, but the old houses interested her, for those would tell stories of her life growing up.
The rich vegetation and natural beauty of the island had always enthralled her. In her mind, as a little girl, it was like a place in the fairytale stories. She had never thought about life anywhere else beyond that until a handsome young foreigner saw her at a wedding.

He had asked for her hand in marriage, but young as she was, she hadn’t been sure, not wanting to leave her little paradise.
But over her canvas, he had drawn a beautiful life in bright colours in different parts of the world to interest her and make her accept his proposal.
A beautiful, happy life it had indeed been, but her heart was never won by all the incredibly beautiful, spectacular and splendid places she saw.
Here in the Cinderella County, on a small island in the farmlands, was her love.

At the family home, a warm reception awaited her with hugs and kisses from extended family members, even the young ones she didn’t know.
The scrumptious food, authentic country style, laughter, and engaging conversations were heartwarming for her, bringing tears to her eyes.
That night, she fell into a blissful sleep in her old room, with the cool wind blowing in from the farmlands. She awoke early the next morning and stood on the veranda, watching the glorious sunrise as its golden rays spread across the rice lands and streamed through the branches of the coconut palms.

A serene scene, blushes of nature’s finest moments.
As the days went by, she visited some older families, old friends, her old school, and church, and she reconnected with the people. One day, she stopped under a big, old tree at the side of the road where she and her friends would stop to rest sometimes on their way home from school. Once, on a rainy day, their clothes were half wet, and they had carved their names on the tree trunk with a caption, ‘Wakenaam Girls’.
Madhu passed her hand slowly along the tree trunk and was surprised to see the carved names still there.

“Gosh!” she exclaimed quietly, “This brings back such beautiful memories.”
Her two friends, Kamla and Priya, had left for the city, became successful businesswomen, and got married.
“I wonder if they remember this tree?” Madhu questioned, smiling, “I’ve got to get together with my old friends.”

Time, she knew, could not be rewound, but she could recapture some things of the past in the present time. She walked barefoot in the coconut farms, drank the cool, sweet coconut water and sat on a tractor behind the driver as it ploughed through the rice fields. Her relatives looked at her, bemused but concerned, “You should not be doing these things at your age.”
Madhu laughed, “Age is just a number. There’s a spirited young girl living inside of me.”

She was having a wonderful time, and as she looked back at her young days, just the same when she got older, she would look back at her time now.
The tide and time of life.
The days were going by so fast. Madhu was happy she had come for a three-month vacation. It was long overdue, so she enjoyed every day on the island to the fullest.
In the second month of her vacation, she invited her old friends for a get-together, and that day, the joy and laughter, no sophistication nor talk of wealth or travels, just plain simple country girls reliving their beautiful memories, was something precious.

On the last week of her vacation, she travelled all over the island, saying emotional ‘goodbyes’ to the people and the place, “Until I visit again.”
She did not cry this time when the boat left the island, though she felt sad, for there was an overwhelming joy in her heart of recapturing her life on that island, her name carved on the old tree, her footprints not erased from the farmlands, the fairytale place she loved so much.
She made a promise to herself to visit often now and that she would tell her children that when her time is up, they must bring her back home to her paradise, “The Island of Wakenaam.”