I have no recollection of my early days in Madagascar; of course I was two years old when my parents separated and my mother and I moved to France. At the time she was pregnant and was looking to start a new life in a new country. My earlier memories of growing up in France include large family gatherings at grandma's house, cold, icy winters , preschool fun, my mom juggling 3 young children as she had given birth to my two younger sisters and had 3 children by the age 20. My father lived in Madagascar; a far away island in the south east of Africa, so far it would take 10 hours by plane to get there is what my mother would say.
Traveling to the big Island somehow became a distant dream. Something I might do someday; it stayed on my bucket list but was tuck away at the very bottom... Life has a funny way to make