We head across the road to Mi Yard. We had been planning on having breakfast here after Max’s coffee but now we’ll have both. I don’t know their names but the older guy who had served appetizers on the pub crawl and his wife are working. Very nice people. We order Ackee and Saltfish and I ask if I can get a plate of Saltfish and Dumplings. “A plate of JUST dumplings?” He asks. “Yeah, I love them,” I say and he has a conversation with his wife I don’t catch all of except he mentions having served them on the Pub Crawl in a sort of “See, I told you” kind of way. “I think serving the appetizers on the Pub Crawl is a great idea,” I say, “Bet you get some business out of that.” “Yah, mon, I think it’s a good idea,” and he shoots his wife a smile. We get coffees and a small rum cream and chill out to the porch.
There are a group of people on the boat beach across the road talking and milling about. I’m caught by the scene unfolding through the Mi Yard entrance and go to grab a shot. What I would have given for a lense with a deep field of focus.
The food arrives and is delicious. The Ackee and Saltfish is particularly good and we say so. “We’re known as the home of Ackee and Saltfish in Negril,” say Mr. Yard. I can tell you it’s REALLY good. The dumplings are excellent and just before I finish them off Sweetie Pie tears off a chunk and sets it aside. “Scar?” I ask and get a smile and nod. Sweetie Pie has had all the coffee she wants and there is still a big pour of rum cream left. I fill the cup and go in to see Mr. Yard. The cup is about three quarters full of rum cream. “Just a splash to cut the rum cream, please.” Mr. Yard makes the quickest tip of the pot possible and a few drops find their way into my cup. “Perfect,” I say and we both smile as the pot goes back on the burner.
We sit on the porch for a while, neither one of us wants to leave. Everything from this point forward will be part of the inevitable march that leads us away from our place. A check on the laundry list for departure, a roll of the parchment that has been our tale. A fitting spot for the last picture in Negril, hanging on the porch of Mi Yard…
We run into Scar on the way back to Home Sweet Home and he gets a little bite of dumpling. “I wish I could hug you, little fella,” says Sweetie Pie, “Good luck.” We wonder if we’ll ever see him again. The life of Jamaican street dogs is very short.
