The celebration began with a church service (at the church George grew up attending) where George's parents sang enchanting songs in Patois (a dialect of French commonly spoken in St. Lucia) accompanied by steel drums, in a choir composed of mostly St. Lucians. The day continued with partying, food, more food and a whole lotta love.
Nyah and Elsa's Aunt made them dresses for the celebration, a Madras (St. Lucian cultural dress), to match the choir. Their Aunt of course dressed them up (because I had no clue) and did their hair (because I can't be trusted, obviously). Guess who loved every minute of it?
Many times through the day I found myself being overcome with these odd emotions as I witnessed the display of love, pride and loyalty for St. Lucia from those who still hold her so close to their heart during the celebration. I can't imagine moving to another country with nothing, making whole new life for my family and struggling and working harder than ever imagined and being wildly successful at it. And as I am thinking this I look and up and there are George's parents dancing their way down the aisle, leading the choir processional, singing their native songs in their native dress in their native language and I lost it. Not completely, I swallowed it, but you know.
|Elsa on the move with her Grandma.|
Yes. I think I do.