In the decade since my sons left home, walking has brought us together

“Don’t let them push you around,” my youngest son said halfway through the Camino de Santiago. “You don’t have to get up early if you don’t want to.” His brother, from his bunk, replied that he didn’t know that was an option. This subversive banter is what our family sounds like now: the old hierarchy has loosened and we are four adults negotiating the day.

When we tackled the Camino a decade ago, my husband and I knew the walk marked an ending of sorts. One son had just finished school and the other his degree; their lives were waiting elsewhere. This 30-day walk was wedged into the narrow gap before those lives took hold.

We had walked with these boys since they were babies — carrying them in backpacks, coaxing them along with snacks and stories, eventually handing them the weight of their own packs. Walking together was familiar, but the emotional landscape had shifted. The Camino turned out to be a ritual I hadn’t known I needed, a long, unplanned goodbye.

camino, walking, family, adult children, sons, pilgrimage, ritual, goodbye, decade, parenting