The Will to be True Blog

As one would expect, the arrival of the luggage was frought with anxiety and disappointment. I received the long awaited call early on Friday. ‘Your luggage has arrived in Kingston.’  What sweeter words could there be?  I didn’t even want to think about the journey the suitcase had undertaken. The caller gave me a range from today or  tomorrow. I stated unequivocally, tonight please.
Since I had already discovered that the office closes early, I was waiting until the 5 o’clock hour before allowing anxiety to set in.  If the luggage didn’t arrive, there would be no one to call. As the evening wore on, hope faded along with the setting sun. No one does business after dark and driving around the Island with luggage from abroad seemed to be almost asking to be hijacked. By nine, all hope had gone and I resigned myself to a surety on Saturday. Not long after the release of my last sigh, the phone rang. In a house with two women having the same first initial and last name, the call taken by the youngster of the house was precariously handed to the elder. She was probably the best person to answer anyway. The driver was lost. Could he get directions?
We stood at the metal grill, which protects most homes on the island from predators, and waited for the van to arrive. Indeed, he was not long. The young man stood in the pouring rain and unloaded quite a few suitcases in the dark, using a simple flashlight to search for the missing case among many others. Our own special markers helped him to find it quickly.
He was clearly wet and hungry.  He admitted to having many miles to go before he would get his own rest, but we were grateful for his efficiency and good manners.
This is the end of my saga. A happy ending to be sure. Others may not have such luck but in everything I found the manners to be respectful and outstanding, something I miss in the easy going cultural climate of the north.

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