Saying goodbye to my Camino friend.

Over fhe past four+ weeks we spent almost every waking moment together. Walking on the Chemin le Puy turned into a comedy act performed by two middle aged, slightly plump women with disabilities. I don't know when last I laughed so long or so much.

And I don't know when last I cried as hard and as long as I did today, standing at the bus stop in Ronscevalle, watching my Camino sister walk past the sign that reads "Santiago de Compostelo 790".  Passengers on the bus must have wondered about me, yet no one asked. I cried, holding back sobs as best I could, until I fell asleep. The bus stopped at Puerta le Reina.  I woke up, disoriented, asked a man getting off where I was. He looked at me like was from another world. I arrived in Estella, alone, in the middle of a huge festival.  With a companion I would have joined in the party. But there were no pilgrims there. Locals, families and friends joined together to celebrate.  I felt out of place, longing for my own family at home. Thinking about my camino sister.

Many start the Camino alone, and complete it having developed incredible relationships. Walking all those kilometers there is so much time to talk, or listen or just experience a comfortable silence as the hiking poles click in rhythm. 

I love to tell stories. Some made up, but most true. And when I run out of stories I bring up topics for discussion....like "what is your favorite animal and why"...that is how we discovered we both like giraffes.

I dreampt last night that I looked ahead on the Camino and saw two young people crossing the Path. Walking with them was a baby giraffe.

The giraffe looked down the Camino at me, deep brown  eyes, and the puzzled pattern of rusty brown hair  in the creamy white background glowed in the sun. For a moment, there was a connection. The puzzle seemed less challenging with someone there to share.

Two pilgrims we are, with our bodies disabled by progressive  neurological disease, sharing struggles no one else can understand. Not understanding ourselves the puzzle life can be, as strength and endurance fade. We are both mules...stubborn as all get out, filled with tenacity and courage, more than  enough to walk the Camino. I think we are as puzzling to each other as the disconnected pieces of the giraffes coat. 

Leslie said  "Goodbye Ladybird." She knows I do not care for that term of endearment.

We both turned and walked away.

I stopped and shouted.  "You girly girl."   (She is and she knows it)

She turned and looked for just a moment and then I watched as she headed on the Camino towards Santiago,

Someday these disabled bodies will be transformed. Our scarred hearts and battered souls healed.

In the resurrection of our bodies in the second coming of Jesus we will be remade, perfect and new.

We will be young, crossing the Camino, walking with the baby giraffe, it's rusty coat gleaming in the sunlight, no longer a puzzle to be solved.

Thanks Leslie, for sharing your Camino.