I know three paintings from my childhood.  A portrait of a black sheep of the family, as if there's only one, from the late 1800s hangs at my father's home.  The sheep's eyes travel with you as you move about the house.  Two feature Bermuda.  I studied them and imagined myself in them. I have known Bermuda (and black sheep eyes) my entire life.  How has it taken so many years for me to visit the place I belong?  Eighty degrees all day every day, jungle like vibrant, textured gardens, food hanging from and under trees, blue water and big skies.

If I go missing, you can find me here:  32.3000° N, 64.7833° W