The Time a Woman Died on my Flight to Dominica

I boarded the plane, risking one last glance behind me at the beautiful, flat landscape with palms swaying in the near distance. Anguilla had been heavenly.

As a small Caribbean island, well off the beaten tourist path, I had felt extremely fortunate to have spent 4 nights here. It had been the perfect place to unwind after an unfortunate start to our Caribbean island-hopping expedition.

We were now heading to our final stop, and one that I knew extremely well – Barbados. I’d even go as far as to call the island my second home. Coming back here never felt like a chore and I could feel my stomach tingling with excitement as I wandered down the narrow isle in the plane, searching for my seat which was somewhere on the left-hand-side of the aircraft.

The plane was narrow with 2 seats on each side of the isle. I sat down beside the window with my sister on my right. The rest of the family were on the other side of the isle.

I’d come to love these little propeller planes that hopped from island to island. It felt bittersweet that this would be our last one.

The familiar hum of the propellers screamed in my ears as we made our way down the runway. I looked out of my window as we began our ascent. Goodbye Anguilla!

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