- Time of past OR future Camino
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Mother's Day for me these last few years is a bittersweet day. I remember the woman who birthed me, raised me, made me who I am through genetic influence and caring gestures of trust, and hope. It is bittersweet because she is no longer around.
My first Camino was because of my mother. She had a friend who was an adventuresome sort. This said friend and her planned a Camino.
I was an early 30's, overweight, ex athlete who was spending more couch time than should be prescribed. I remember telling my mother, I want to come (hoping for something new to jumpstart my life)... she jumped to include me.
We met in Leon... after she had walked from SJPdP for the past 4 weeks. I remember walking into Hotel Paris on that first day, and I learned that someone already occupied my room. Somewhat shocked and confused, I headed up that curious skinny European elevator, and was brought to the door. Opening it, I saw her, and the socks and underwear drying, sink washed, on some fangled clothesline of her creation. Those who know, know.
Two days later we were met by her friend, and her friend's family... They had done their own version of the camino, taking excursions, even renting a car.
I had been reading my mothers pre-reading and notebooks before I left. I knew, that for this trip to be a success, we would need to reach Santiago. Walking.
During those days spent in Leon, waiting for her friends, not walking...I grew restless. We have got to go! Let's do this!
The friend and family, once they arrived the next day, were hesitant to proceed. "No, let's hang out here for a few days, go to the Cortes Ingles, chill."
The son of the family even said, "You aren't going to make it, you might as well accept that."
F**k that, that was icing on the cake. That night, I turned to my mother and said, "We leave tomorrow, together. Without them."
And she willingly accepted. And we walked for 13 days from Leon to Santiago, our first night was in Mazarife, the climb to O'Cebreiro was memorable. We stayed at Rabanal, and enjoyed a hotel in Ponferrada when my own diarrhea was quite discomforting but the private bathroom made things better.
Finally, on that last day of arrival, we checked into Hotel Rua do Villar, cleaned up, and walked to the Cathedral to enjoy a pilgrim's mass with the giant incense thing swinging.
The next day we took a train to Madrid and headed home.
My mother stepped up her game so that we could reach our goal, walking further than she ever had those first four weeks to make sure I made Santiago.
She didn't live long enough to enjoy another Camino.
Just a few months after the trip, her cancer returned. 2 years later she was dead.
But here's the thing, after that trip together, all the time spent with my mother, both challenged physically, linguistically, culturally, we enjoyed a bond never experienced before. I called her EVERY DAY after our trip until her death, and we exchanged pleasantries and recollections, each knowing that we were a team unsuspected, driven to teamwork by the Camino.
My point is this, if you have a chance to do the Camino with mom or son or daughter, go for it. Blood relations make easy the tired spastics of routine confrontation. You have a chance to enjoy a bond that I consider paramount in my life.
I think maybe I go back each year to be with her again, just out of the corner of my eye.
Damien
My first Camino was because of my mother. She had a friend who was an adventuresome sort. This said friend and her planned a Camino.
I was an early 30's, overweight, ex athlete who was spending more couch time than should be prescribed. I remember telling my mother, I want to come (hoping for something new to jumpstart my life)... she jumped to include me.
We met in Leon... after she had walked from SJPdP for the past 4 weeks. I remember walking into Hotel Paris on that first day, and I learned that someone already occupied my room. Somewhat shocked and confused, I headed up that curious skinny European elevator, and was brought to the door. Opening it, I saw her, and the socks and underwear drying, sink washed, on some fangled clothesline of her creation. Those who know, know.
Two days later we were met by her friend, and her friend's family... They had done their own version of the camino, taking excursions, even renting a car.
I had been reading my mothers pre-reading and notebooks before I left. I knew, that for this trip to be a success, we would need to reach Santiago. Walking.
During those days spent in Leon, waiting for her friends, not walking...I grew restless. We have got to go! Let's do this!
The friend and family, once they arrived the next day, were hesitant to proceed. "No, let's hang out here for a few days, go to the Cortes Ingles, chill."
The son of the family even said, "You aren't going to make it, you might as well accept that."
F**k that, that was icing on the cake. That night, I turned to my mother and said, "We leave tomorrow, together. Without them."
And she willingly accepted. And we walked for 13 days from Leon to Santiago, our first night was in Mazarife, the climb to O'Cebreiro was memorable. We stayed at Rabanal, and enjoyed a hotel in Ponferrada when my own diarrhea was quite discomforting but the private bathroom made things better.
Finally, on that last day of arrival, we checked into Hotel Rua do Villar, cleaned up, and walked to the Cathedral to enjoy a pilgrim's mass with the giant incense thing swinging.
The next day we took a train to Madrid and headed home.
My mother stepped up her game so that we could reach our goal, walking further than she ever had those first four weeks to make sure I made Santiago.
She didn't live long enough to enjoy another Camino.
Just a few months after the trip, her cancer returned. 2 years later she was dead.
But here's the thing, after that trip together, all the time spent with my mother, both challenged physically, linguistically, culturally, we enjoyed a bond never experienced before. I called her EVERY DAY after our trip until her death, and we exchanged pleasantries and recollections, each knowing that we were a team unsuspected, driven to teamwork by the Camino.
My point is this, if you have a chance to do the Camino with mom or son or daughter, go for it. Blood relations make easy the tired spastics of routine confrontation. You have a chance to enjoy a bond that I consider paramount in my life.
I think maybe I go back each year to be with her again, just out of the corner of my eye.
Damien