The stories of their trip walking the Camino de Santiago have been coming out. Interspersed in phone conversations with our twins, the particulars of that week stand out as memorable. It turns out that you can learn a lot about a person while trudging a hundred kilometers. Your style becomes more clear. Some people pack minimally, while others may toss many pairs of shoes in so that they can decide later which ones fit. There are those who like to begin in the early morning, leaving the heat of the afternoon for rest, while others may want to trudge all the way until dinner. 

 

The people who live along the route are familiar with pilgrims, and eagerly point you toward the path should you get confused. There are yellow arrows, and shells peppered along the path. 

 

One evening, when the girls walked into a restaurant, the locals handed them plates of pasta even before they sat down. In a small village with a fountain in the square, they scooped up water in their hats and plopped them on their heads, to wash away the sweat and tears. 

 

There was a list of wines on a menu that included bottles from the very vineyards they had passed through, which seemed a good choice. 

 

The greeting that was on everyone's lips was of encouragement. 

 

"Buen Camino!" "Buen Camino!" people would shout as they passed by one another. The spirit was one of support, believing that each person was on a journey, and might be tired. What a lovely sentiment. 

 

Last week one of our cars was in the shop, and John had the other at a barbershop event. He planned to be home in time to fetch me. But fifteen minutes before it started he called to say he would be late. He expected me to me miffed, but I thought of my girls and walked out the door. I arrived huffing and hot. But one woman grabbed me a glass of cold water and another pointed the fan on my face. I did not complain. 

 

Carrying your belongings is a kind of litmus test. Kilometer after kilometer, one wonders if the extra weight is a good idea. As I notice the negativity and anxiety I sometimes cling to, this strikes me as prudent. Maybe some of the opinions and criticism taking up space in my mental backpack are better left behind.