A Bay Named Bolongo

A Bay named Bolongo.

25 years ago I was confused, hurt and lost.

The current chapter of my life I was writing came to an abrupt, unexpected end.

Knowing I needed a change, but not knowing exactly what that meant, I decided one day to simply book a trip to the Virgin Islands.  

Alone.

Just a backpack, some clothes, a journal and a pen.

I didn’t have a cell phone, and I didn’t bring a camera.

I booked a stay at Bolongo Bay Beach Resort because I liked the name. I liked how it sounded. 

Little did I know at the time, that small family owned resort would be a recurring character throughout the next 25 years of my life.

For the next few days I wrote, in a hammock.

I wrote about the first person I met while checking in late at night after a long day of travel, Charlene. 

The Universe is funny like that. 

The only other Charlene I’ve ever met is my mom.

I hung-out with locals late at night. 

I was invited to a family gathering at Magens Bay and enjoyed the most amazing authentic Caribbean food.

And I wrote. About the experience and about my life.

I was figuring it out through words on paper.

Once I returned to reality, the writing continued.

I started to heal.

I started to move on.

I moved. I went back to college to finish my degree. I changed careers. I met my future wife.

Writing came.

Writing went.

25 years later, I’m still flirting with writing. Trying to be more consistent and give it a place to live.

25 years later, during my last visit to Bolongo Bay with my wife and daughters, who did I see after talking to the staff about that first trip 25 years prior — Charlene.

25 years later and I am no longer hurting.

Lost and a bit confused? Probably always will be…

Perhaps that’s what keeps me curious.

Keeps me “looking for answers to questions that bother me so.”