I turned 29 years old in Trinidad in my house. It had been 22 years since I last celebrated a birthday there. Back then, I was 7. Walking through the front door this time felt different. Not just like I was visiting… but like I was returning to something that had been waiting for me.

The morning of my birthday the sunlight came into my room beaming across shining brightly. I could hear the house was already alive. Downstairs I could hear pots clinking in the kitchen, soft laughter floating up the hallway.

I took a moment for myself to just lay there and smile. I was 29. And I was home.

The house turned into a little birthday workshop. Balloons were blown up and tied off.
Streamers were taped carefully across the walls. My aunts stepped back to make sure everything looked “just right.”

It wasn’t fancy but it was full of love.

The kitchen was the heart of the day. From the living room you can smell the wonderful food  cooking. There was channa & aloo, pumpkin cooked down soft and sweet. Fresh mango was sliced and ready. Fried rice and roti filled the counters. We all had one job stirring, tasting, seasoning. The smells wrapped around the house like a warm hug.

My uncle from Seattle had been visiting there already for a few weeks before hand. It just made it extra special to have him there for my birthday. When I saw him, we smiled at each other like he hadn’t missed a beat, my heart felt full. Some people show love in quiet ways.
He showed it by showing up.

As the day went on, the house slowly filled.

Aunts catching up in the kitchen. Cousins laughing in the hallway. Nieces and nephews running around in the yard.
Friends stopping by with hugs and birthday wishes.The walls held all the noise like they had done so many times before.

Then someone turned the music up.

Soca filled the living room. Old songs played that everyone somehow knew by heart.

My aunts were the first to start dancing.
My cousins followed. Even the little ones tried to copy the moves. Before long, the whole living room was moving.

The sounds of laughter coming from the house and the yard was the kind that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes cry.
The kind that echoes off the walls and into your memory forever. Just family. Just joy.