Jamaica, 1994, working on a UNESCO project to develop heritage conservation labs for Port Royal and the IOJ. Staying at the venerable Liguanea Club in central Kingston, next to Emancipation Park. Breakfast in the back under the veranda overlooking the gardens, tennis courts in the background. Glass topped white wrought iron tables, white linen napkins.

Near the center of the ensemble, a young woman eating breakfast alone as I exited the lobby with my tray and coffee. “Do you mind if I join you?” An imperceptible moment of hesitation before saying, please do. She was light complexioned, dressed impeccably, bronze shoulder length hair, and stunningly beautiful.

A native of Trinidad and Tobago, in JA on some corporate business, I forget. I enjoyed our light hearted conversation, and joined her again the following morning, sharing stories. Wondering for a brief moment how it looked, me across from Zenobia, with both of us quietly grateful for good harbor. Comfortable and elegant, ackee and salt fish eggs, a cup of blue mountain. Green eyes deep as her polished soul.