Early migrations

Here emerges, into a world, a small piece of chocolate. May 26, 1991, the chance for a small 7 pound chocolate baby to take the world by storm. Being born in upstate New York was always something that I held on to, I was always proud to say that I was a Jamaican, born in New York, raised in Florida. My family’s migration to Florida was a decision probably planned by the Jamaicans for years. Those darn Jamaicans, can’t stand the cold, but flourish in the heat like mangoes. I say mangoes, because without mangoes, Jamaica is just Britain for black people. I hope those reading this, know that Jamaica is a British colony, because if you don’t, then that joke was a fail. In my short time in New York (5 years), I befriended a little white boyfriend named Jacob. Jacob and I were inseparable, he was my little white chocolate. We did everything together and from my recollection, he was a stud. Any white boy, who can pull a black girl, has game. Mind you, Jacob was only 5 then. I can only imagine the amount of girls this kid is pulling now. Our dates were of course, always chaperoned by our parents. I may have to disclose to you, that I’m pretty sure my mom was our babysitter. I wasn’t a baby though and neither was he, babies didn’t have undeniable love for each other. Jacob and I, had dates that consisted of nap time, snack time, party time in McDonald’s play area, the list goes on and on. The last date I can recall that Jacob and I went on was a trip to the bowling alley. Jacob, my stud failed me. I wanted to bowl, but Jacob wasn’t strong enough to pick up the ball. He dropped the ball, literally and figuratively. That was a game-changer for me, Jacob couldn’t pick up the mother-chucking ball! How are you going to take me on a date, not even be able to pick a ball and not bring me some snacks and a Capri-sun!?! Now, Jacob’s image was slowly slipping, the white chocolate was melting right before my eyes. Luckily, my mother was there asking us “you want me to help you?” Yes mom, please. Because Jacob is failing terribly right now. My mom was my date that day and she was also Jacob’s too. She helped us roll the ball and not only were the pins knocked down, but so was our undeniable love. But just as quickly as White Choco and I fell in love, it ended. The love was now unrequited, White Choco loved me, but to his surprise I was moving! Yeah, I had planned it all along Jacob Fail-Master 2000; your love wasn’t enough. I was on to bigger and better things on the sunny side of the country. Jacob would eventually find his true love when his muscles set in and that wasn’t the only balls he had to worry about anymore. In due time Jacob, in due time. I remember the move in small flashbacks, like one of the stupid movies that have more flashbacks then actual present dilemmas. You know, like a Lifetime movie. We sold all the stuff we didn’t need, which in my book was a little unfair because at the ripe age of 5, there were some things that I thought were needed that my parents didn’t quite agree with. Like why are we selling our sled, and our snow shovel? I just didn’t understand that there was not going to be white Christmases anymore. But I was told that Florida did have a Blizzard Beach at Disney. Which very much confused me, how can it be a blizzard AND a sunny beach, at the same time? My young undeveloped mind didn’t understand such a thing, but whatever. Now is the time, that I must tell you of my very shameful addiction. I, Chantal Roache, am addicted to.... Juice. Oh the shame, bottles and bottles of sugar water. On the trip to Florida, one of our neighbors granted me my last wish for New York. A can of orange-pineapple juice to drink on the long journey. This can would suffice, though it wouldn’t last very long. As I was holding the drink, I don’t know what happened, but the metal can opener fell in my drink. To me, that was nothing. Merely a small obstacle to get around as I gulped the drink down. But no, my over-protective Jamaican mother found this as a safety hazard and poured the liquid gold out the window! Was she crazy? Was she losing her mind, you don’t just go up to crackheads and throw out their last bit of crack. That just isn’t freaking allowed! From then on, the trip was miserable. You see, packing a family of 6 into a minivan and setting them on the road for more than 20 hours just isn’t ideal. You have my dad, who loves to drive, driving like he was on the set of a Fast and Furious movie. You then have my very anxious, timid, over-exaggerative mother, in the passenger’s seat. She alone could have influenced anyone to just want to drive off a cliff. The President actually has contacted her on many occasions to have her torture and question prisoners. That’s her side job that we will keep on the low. [Shhh, the secret is now ours ;)] Every second, she was screaming in fright. Seriously, at one point a car was nearly 2,000 feet away from her and she jammed on her imaginary driver’s-ed brakes. My young mind just thought she was stepping on roaches and the fright that ignited out of me was real. Very real. Then you have three boys, I’m going to take a rough guesstimate and say that they were 13, 11, and 8. Me, of course being the cutest in the van, seemed to get special care that no one else got. After my juice was taken from my small unforgiving hands, I decided that I need not be awake for this crazy excursion. I slept for as many hours as one mini-human can sleep before finally waking up. I was able to sleep on whoever I wanted, steal anyone’s food, and pass gas at any given moment. If any old people are reading this book, you too know the luxuries of this. Passing gas in a car is probably an offense that should be unforgivable, but when a little cute midget like myself did it, it was accepted. Mini-vans back then, didn’t have those wind down windows, the back seat had windows that only opened slightly and let out a small crack of air. Let’s just say the long trip evoked many emotions from everyone, but when we got to Florida, it was smooth sailing. We didn’t get a boat or anything, the smooth sailing thing is just a phrase used by many, to say everything was kosher. Kosher is just a phrase used to say that everything was good/fine/set. I could go on and on, the point is, Florida was now my home and something about it just seemed right.