When I was a boy growing up in Trinidad, I remember every evening after reaching home that I would leave and head across to my grandparents’ home. I would go and say good evening to my grandmother who would always try and get me to eat some food. However, I would always refuse because I had a ritual that had to be kept.
I would walk to the front of the house and sit on the street curb (a regular hang out spot for everyone, that drain only had water when rain fell). I would keep my vigil with my eyes focused in the direction of the Eastern Main Road. Then like clockwork just around 5:00 pm in the evening my grandfather would come walking down the street. He worked with the Ministry of Works as a chain man in the survey division. In his hand was his lunch kit in which he always left some food for me.
Yes I could have eaten hot food at home or at my grandmother’s home but that was our ritual and now that he is gone I fondly remember my grandfather walking home after work – those were the good ole days.
I would walk to the front of the house and sit on the street curb (a regular hang out spot for everyone, that drain only had water when rain fell). I would keep my vigil with my eyes focused in the direction of the Eastern Main Road. Then like clockwork just around 5:00 pm in the evening my grandfather would come walking down the street. He worked with the Ministry of Works as a chain man in the survey division. In his hand was his lunch kit in which he always left some food for me.
Yes I could have eaten hot food at home or at my grandmother’s home but that was our ritual and now that he is gone I fondly remember my grandfather walking home after work – those were the good ole days.