I’m leaving the country today. If I weren’t, I’d be marching in the city with other women in protest of the debacle that we all are bearing witness to.
But I don’t want to talk about that.
Today I am leaving the country with a fellow teacher and seven high school students. We’re walking across Spain on the El Camino de Santiago.
Years ago, I learned about the Camino from my (most honored) English professor Craig Bernthal. He showed us stunning pictures of lush green hills, crumbling old cathedrals, and a long winding path marked with sea shells to help pilgrims find their way.
He spoke of a spiritual journey, a time to ponder, to test yourself, to question.
I thought it to be the most astounding thing.
I never thought I would do it.
We will walk long days in the rain, have lunch at cafés, and sleep in albuerges surrounded by people from all over the world.
I will be in Paris tonight.
I’m leaving the country today–grateful, expectant, and a bit troubled to leave my husband and family so far behind. I’ve written all their initials on the shell that is dangling from my pack; I’ll be carrying them on my back and in my heart.
It’s my 60th year. I’m walking across Spain.
I’m always given more than I deserve.