We were all sad to leave Atlantis. Our now like family member Mr. Damarius graciously took this photo of us as he wheeled our smitten little girl out along with our luggage. I realized I would miss this man, so much younger than my own father but SO very much like him. I noticed the way our little one loved him and it was hard not to lament the loss of my Daddy never getting to know his only granddaughter in this life. Mr. Damarius, much like my father Marcus, was one of a kind. He was upbeat, joking, and always positive. I missed my Daddy so very much in that moment. He worked with joy, just as my father always did and I found myself hugging him as we left. With Atlantis behind us I saw reality and my childhood blending together in a flash. Poverty. Despair. Hope. Struggle. I vowed never to forget my roots and I told my husband and child about them on the way to the airport. It is so important never to forget. Never to forget the hardship. Never to forget the pain. It wrapped itself around me like an old worn blanket. And I tried, perhaps futilely, to explain it to my family. Life for me had always been rather harsh, and I did not want my two beloveds getting soft. I wanted them to understand the plight of most people, and how very privileged we were to have gotten to take this trip. Because he put no expectations or pressure on us, I really missed my father-in-law when he left. It became doubly hurtful when I realized how very much I still needed and missed my own father. I knew we needed to stand alone, but it did not lessen the sting. It was time; we needed to be leaving the city.