Carnival Monday

The story really starts 17 years ago. I was just 20 with my first child still breastfeeding but it was Carnival… I wanted to go to UWI Splash, the biggest party that year for young adults. Since I couldn’t get a babysitter, I had to stay home. I cried. And cried. And… yes, cried some more. You see, Carnival is the best part of the year for me. Give me a mud mas and a truck to follow and I am so there. I love to be in a fete for Carnival, sneakers on my feet and my waist loose like melting butter, more wotless than Kees could ever imagine. So to miss that fete was agony. But I got over it.

Still, I’m a Carnival person. So why am I home on Carnival Monday blogging when I should be out wining on the streets of Port-of-Spain? I didn’t feel the desperate need to lose my mind in the dark in jouvert this year. Is that another sign I’m getting old? Or was it the lingering tiredness from going out to fete twice last week? More signs of aging? My body and my mind telling me to conserve my resources, perhaps? Saving myself for Tuesday mas and the longest trek from Woodbrook to Town to the Savannah stage? Picking my battles?

Hopefully, by next jouvert I’ll figure it out, or at least go on Centrum Silver and have the energy and the inclination to take a wine.