Barbados.

To me, the name has always spelled romance. My family once owned plantations there, places named Sunbury, Fisherpond and Golden Grove. My great-great grandmother, whose portrait hangs in my house, was born and grew up there. Although most of my family left the island in the mid-19th century, I always regretted the exotic world I imagined: golden light spilling through louvered shutters, verandahs rife with bougainvillea, gardens of frangipani and hibiscus, ginger lilies, mango and custard apple trees.