Out Of Place

Yesterday morning,as I sat having my coffee at the kitchen table, I couldn't help but notice my little wooden bracelet on the counter. I chuckled a little, and shook my head, I mean--you find things in the oddest places here. When you open a cutlery drawer, there's a pen, and please don't open that closet(literally and metaphorically) cause I can't protect you from you might find! But in the end, it is all fitting, all in line, all consistent with that running theme I, and many others have experienced and that is of being, or feeling, out of place. When I lived in Brooklyn, I was yankee girl in my house, and the Trinidadian girl amongst my friends, when I lived in Trinidad I was, well, Yankee girl again and in college, the Black/Trinidadian girl and in Copenhagen I'm well--you get the picture. I've never felt uncomfortable in this role, and I guess I've learned to thrive in it especially since one of the things I feel fortunate about is having had the op...