Dec 17th

6AM The sounds of my host father getting ready for another day of hard work and the sun blazing through my window tore me from my deep sleep. Dreams of a distant past are whisked away and the reality of Jamaica comes flooding back like a cold Jamaican bucket bath.

As I lay in bed an unexpected tapping on my door startles me from my half conscience state. My host dad pauses for a response and begins to gently tap again. I consider telling him I'm sick... I take a deep breath close my eyes and hop out of bed. In the cheeriest tone I can muster- probably resembles a disgruntled Wal-Mart employee- I ask, “how I can help you Mr. Scotty?”... You need my tuning fork for your bicycle? Well, I don't know where that is but give me a second and I'll find it.
30 minutes and a room that I have torn apart later- I admit defeat. I consider trying to fall back to sleep but it's the first day of winter break and I made a promise to 18 people. A promise I wasn't going to break.
As the morning progresses I go though my typical rut- hanging the laundry I had soaked from the night before, trying to scrounge up some semi-clean cloths to wear, skipping breakfast, walking an hour to catch a taxi, “smalling up” so the driver can fix 6-8 passengers in a 4 passenger taxi, eating delicious, unhealthy, fried chicken from a road side shop and chit chatting all along the way.

11AM- Sun is up, sun is out, and I am soaked in sweat. I think to myself, “snowing at home? Couldn't be true.”
When I reach a sport/internet bar just off of the tourist “hip strip”. I plan my attack, painstakingly calculating and cross referencing each aspect. I can't make a mistake or I will be slaughtered. It's no game, these Football playoffs. Yes, I manage a football team, no not little league. It's fantasy football. But these are not the 18 I must keep a promise too.

As soon as I arrived in Montego Bay a pit in my stomach had begun to form but I take my second deep breath and I make my way to the 17 patients living at the AIDS Hospice and the staff of dedicated Jamaican's and a little nuns from the Philippines.

As I walk in the door I'm greeted by a room of warm smiles. I immediately remember why I promised the 17 residents and promised myself I would return. I talk geography with one patient, the most beautiful Churches and towns with another and discus who is the most beautiful girl who is currently on the television with the rest. The two residents began to bicker, “Oh, dat gayl is fine.” “No sir! She speaks with a southern accent!” And this lands me into a discussion on whether local schools should teach theJamaica's dialect of English in schools and if it should be considered it's own language. The conversation is comical and relaxed.

A nurse walks into the room and tells me that she is disappointed; I didn't learn anything the first day I visited. I disagree, I taught myself how to turn on the TV. I don't think she gets my humor. The rest of the day I am completely humbled, touched, heartbroken and thankful as I follow her bed to bed on her evening rounds. As I find myself next to a new resident with different complications, different amounts of pain, different lives, families and personalities; a knot of emotions begins to grow and a mantra is repeated over and over within my heart- Mother Teresa pray for us.

I promise I will soon be back.