Buckle up, folks.
January 21, 2008
The sky was a perfect blue. I was surrounded by some of my best friends, sailing on a ship filled with more than 4,000 beautiful men. Two days earlier, we’d left Miami on a seven-day cruise that began with a burst of energy—wild dance parties, endless laughter, and a dazzling masquerade parade where I met the incomparable Wanda Sykes.
By day three, we reached our first port of call: Turks and Caicos.
For years, the name had fascinated me, odd and exotic when I first heard it as a kid, then alluring once I learned about its turquoise waters and laid-back island culture. Finally, I was here.
Truth be told, it was obvious we were on the touristy side of the island, but I didn’t care. I was excited. We disembarked and wandered for a bit, soaking in everything—the sun, the sea, the color of the sky that looked almost painted.
We stopped for “lunch” (read: cocktails) at, of all places, Margaritaville. Normally, I’d roll my eyes at such tourist traps, but this was my first visit to Jimmy Buffett’s famed chain, and honestly, I didn’t mind. The drinks were flowing, the vibe electric, and Bob Marley played on a steady loop. It was bliss.
This was my second cruise, and I’d already learned one of the great secrets of cruising: some of the best moments happen when the ship is docked. With most passengers ashore, the decks grow quiet, the pools serene, and the bartenders unhurried.
After lunch, I did a little duty-free shopping, then headed back to the ship. Once onboard, I quickly changed, grabbed my pool bag, and made my way up to the deck.
It was perfect—peaceful. The music was low, the sun warm, and the air carried just a hint of salt and rum. I settled into a lounge chair, ready to escape into my book.
Reaching for my phone to cue up some music, I noticed a missed call.
I knew who it was, so I called right away, figuring it would be quick. It wasn’t.
What unfolded over the next fifteen or twenty minutes changed my life forever. My long-awaited trip to Turks and Caicos became something else entirely—not the memory I had hoped it would be. The full story of that call can be read here.
Incredibly, that was seventeen years ago.
Last Thanksgiving, “my sister”, my “nephew/godson”, his girlfriend, and I started talking about taking a trip together. The idea was Vegas. I’ve always loved Vegas, and it’s been a few years since my last visit.
By Easter, we’d decided to go in the fall, and as the months ticked by, we finally landed on a weekend that happened to coincide with my birthday. But as the planning began, it quickly became clear that Vegas was overpriced for what we wanted. So I started looking for alternatives.
Royal Caribbean had a four-day cruise for the same dates we were hoping to travel. I’d been itching to go on another cruise—my last was in 2016—and as I looked into it more, I realized the ship was going to…Grand Turk.
Cue the flood of emotions. At first, they overwhelmed me—but as quickly as they came, they faded, replaced by a quiet sense of something else: a second chance.
I presented the idea to the group—leaving out the deeper history I had with the island—and we decided to go for it. We booked the trip.
The ship was scheduled to be in Grand Turk on my birthday. What are the odds?
We had an amazing time. The weather was unbelievable (well, hot AF), the sky was blue and the water impossibly clear. We went snorkeling, a first for me. I’d always wanted to, but fear had kept me from it. Not this time. It was incredible. Then we went to another part of the island to visit with stingrays. Again, amazing.
Afterward, we saddled up to, of all places, Margaritaville, to cool off with some cocktails and grab lunch.
It was a perfect day—one that helped soften the pain of my first visit. Nothing will ever erase that horrible day, but this… this was a gift. One, I’m so glad I embraced.
All these years later, it’s never been lost on me that Mom chose that moment—when I was farthest away—to let go. She wanted me to be beyond reach, spared the impossible decision to have to let her go. A plan foiled by modern technology.
And now that this trip as come and gone, I’m convinced she had a hand in making this magical birthday weekend happen, to help ease the ache of that day so long ago.
Thanks, Mom.
Repartee Room 
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