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“Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost” is a cliche quote you can find just about anywhere. It might give you license to go traveling for a gap year or to go find yourself. But how can you find yourself if you didn’t even realize you were lost? My mother was born in the small fishing port town of Clarendon Rocky Point Jamaica to a single Mom. My biological grandmother had a friend, Rosa in the big city of Kingston and informed my mother that her father went to England to never return. From the age of about 3 or 4 my mother knew Rosa as her Mom and my biological grandmother as her birth mother. On the small, yet powerful island of Jamaica sending a child to live with someone in Kingston was a common practice. There were just greater opportunities in Kingston than the fishing port town of Rocky Point. Something about this story never really set well with my mother. She attempted many times to find her father in England, but there was no record of a Horace Lee. She tracked down cousins, aunts, uncles and they always pointed her back to her hometown Rocky Point, Jamaica. My mother was confused and discouraged because a Chinese man in the small parish of Clarendon should not be so hard to find. But my mother didn’t give up though. She felt there was more to the story and continued to inquire within the district. She found a sister of hers (Pam) who informed her the man she never knew of as father passed away some years ago. Aunt Pam openly accepted my Mom inviting her to family reunions to get to meet some of her other siblings. My mom was excited yet overwhelmed with feelings she didn’t even understand. She passed on whatever news she learned to her children. Being a teacher and Sociology major I have always been interested in gathering facts and understanding the hows and whys of the way the world. I also knew that there is power in being the one to learn the history from the source, as you will be the one who controls the narrative. At the time I was living in Guangzhou China, Guangdong Providence. I had time on my hands to reach out to Aunt Pam and figure out more. She informed me that the stories I had were true. My grandfather is Chinese and fled to Jamaica at the height of the Communist Revolution. I continued to take notes and attempted to capture it all because I knew I would have to bring the information back to my family. I asked “What part of China?” I almost fell off of my bed when I heard “Guangdong Providence.” I couldn’t even express the level of shock of that I felt. I rushed and told my coworkers and there were a plethora of jokes about how I confidently debate with taxi cab drivers or negotiate with sellers over prices without batting an eye or worrying if I’m using the correct tone in Mandarin. My grandfather walked these same streets long before I did. Now a girl from The Bronx, now a woman can truly understand that I wasn’t lost or wandering. I was walking into my purpose. A purpose I did not expect to find; and I am still trying to putting it together, letter by letter, word by word, sentence by sentence. I will always jump at an opportunity to travel and learn more.