Our twins walked a hundred kilometers. This was not a two-for-the-price-of-one deal, like their delivery was. Combined, they covered two hundred kilometers. It was not due to the absence of proper public transportation. Rather, they embarked on a pilgrimage that has enticed travelers for a thousand years. 

 

Hope said that she used a fleet of shoes, in the elusive effort to console her feet. Some worked for a day or two, before they chafed. She might have done research, with two different shoes for comparison's sake. Twins are popular for research. 

 

Their total mileage on the Camino de Santiago is the amount that I walk in six months, yet they achieved it in less than a week. Technology is such that they could give me updates, which I craved. Even a daily "a" for alive would have lowered my blood pressure.  Mostly, I wanted it to be finished. 

 

But in my frequent checking, and looking up the weather in Spain, I realized that I had missed the point. They did not want to be done. They aspired to be present with the vistas, and sweat, and celebratory dinners, and cool water at the end of each day. 

 

I distracted myself with movies, while they put one foot in front of the other. Martin Sheen produced one about the very route they were on, and it soothed me to see the landscapes. I rewatched another, one with a cheerful beginning and triumphant finale. But the middle, I knew, had a struggle. I held my finger over that little dot, the one that gave me the power to slide right over the pain and into the end. Then I thought of my girls. I watched the whole thing.