It's just a shot away.

You know those songs that just rub you the right away? A few weeks ago a friend from New York made a surprise visit to Vancouver. Sometime during the course of the weekend he played The Rolling Stones "Gimme Shelter." Everything about this song is fantastic and Keith Richards' Vietnam era riff is unmistakable. It's the kind of song from your childhood that played in the kitchen on a Saturday afternoon while your best friend's mom prepared lunch.

I recently returned from a trip to the Caribbean. I visited St. Lucia where a friend of mine lives and island hopped to Antigua where I had grown up as a child. My brother was the only family member that had previously travelled to the island and reassured me it would be a memorable trip. His experience was published in the Tyee soon after.

And so I sat - for 55 minutes until I finally landed at VC Bird International. "Welcome home" the Customs Agent said as she stamped my passport. A few minutes later I was picked up by one of my best friends who hadn't seen me in over two decades. We spent the evening catching up on our lives and reminisced about things we did as kids like boogie boarding at Half Moon Bay and attending vampire themed birthday parties. In the end we agreed that growing up under the Caribbean sun was easily the best childhood anyone could ask for.
 
One consequence of living overseas as a child is that it makes it difficult to determine where home actually is. Because of my experience I assumed I would follow suit and spend most of my life living on a tropical island with a permanent tan. But have I become too urban for such a small island? Most people would say yes. And after living in Vancouver for well over ten years, I would have to agree with them.

But then Duran Duran's Rio begins to play. And all of those hesitations and anxieties disappear. And I begin to feel somewhat tingly. You see, there's a certain charm to the islands. And when you hear those songs and watch those music videos you begin to question your decision. It really is the music that makes the trip. It really is music that ties our lives together.

Recounting stories of times past and seeing old photos of 80s bathing suits and shell printed beach attire, I can overlook the fact that it is a mere ten mile by ten mile long island with little to offer an urbanite. I see the island as something more than white sand, turquoise water, and friendly people. I begin to see it as a way of life. A childhood dream. A sailor's paradise. An island painted with khaki wearing inhabitants. Maybe, just maybe a move back to the islands is just a shot away.