My house is perched on the top of a hill overlooking St. George’s Harbour, a body of water at the eastern end of Bermuda that’s surrounded by and dotted with little islands. There may be an actual term for what I see from my dining-room window – someone casually referred to Bermuda as an archipelago the other day, and that got me wondering what could have been if I hadn’t dropped high-school geography – but, either way, the view is gorgeous. I often sit and watch the clouds, darkening and moving toward me with a sudden downpour or, in the evening, turning a peachy red that reflects off the rippling water, like all the elements have met for an impromptu dance party.
When I need to focus, I find myself working at this table. Last year, after more than a decade working in the non-profit sector and a slew of side hustles – operating a small bookshop, tourism consulting, even voicing radio commercials – I became a full-time entrepreneur and expanded my shop into a larger space that also offers history tours and travel services around the island. Writing and emcee gigs round out my patchwork quilt of self-employment, and I’m obsessed with the gorgeous chaos of it all.
