When people ask me where I was born I normally say St. Mary, Jamaica but that isn’t necessarily true. I was born in a taxi on the way to the Spanish Town Hospital. This is a story both my parents never shy away from telling any chance they get. Funny story actually, from my dad confusingly looking for his shoes when my Mom water broke, which were already on him feet. To the busting out the car umbilical cord ripping, touchdown play my dad performed getting me into the hospital. For someone like myself, with a humorous personality their couldn’t be a more fitting birth. St. Mary one of Jamaica’s 14 parishes where I spent 13 years of my life plays a great deal in the person I am today. A small neighbourhood in St. Mary called Windsor Castle, a tight-knit community is where I resided. Everyone knew each other, they all called me by my middle name “Ukley”. I enjoyed living here, for a community to be so close everyone seemed like family. This community thought me how to love and how to stick together as people. I remember when someone was brutally murdered I few houses away from mine. Everyone from the neighbourhood took to the streets, in search of the perpetrator and to make a statement that we wouldn’t take this lightly. It was a beautiful thing, now that I’m looking back and I hope we all could one day live like my home community did.