My last-day tradition always includes one last ride on the scooter. I turned left and headed up the hill, breezing past Ricks Cafe and Out of Town Pastry, then veering right up the back road, past Moondance Cliffs and Bantons, making a sharp left near the abandoned church and meandering all the way to Westender Inn.
The trek is by far the funnest ride you can do in Negril. There are rarely any other vehicles, and the sights and sounds are just spectacular. You feel like you're in a dream.
I had one last sit-down at the bar, still morning, so I ordered a bottle of water and just kind of took it all in. As I've said, I feel more at home every time I visiit the island, especially so the last few reaches. And thus, it hurts a little more each time to leave. Oh how I wish I could live in Negril forever. I just feel so alive here.
But alas, reality beckons. I do have a life back in Los Angeles, and I have two little ones that need my attention -- and vice-versa. I am never quite whole without my two young daughters, and it's always going to be that way. They are everything to me, and when we're together nothing makes me more happy than meeting all their little requests like going to 7-11 and playing in the park and feeding the ducks and going to the store to buy all there favorite foods and little toys or just sitting around watching TV, knowing they're within a few feet of me.
I'm happy to be divorced, but not being with my daughters for every moment of their lives just kills me. I know they're not going to be this young forever -- I still call them babies on nearly every reference even though they're in elementary school -- and they're on my mind a lot in Negril no matter how hard I try to pleasure all my senses.
I got back on the scooter knowing I would be handing over the keys soon. It was a long ride back.
Originally Posted by Jenn
