Do you ever go to your mailbox, not thinking of a thing, and find a treasure? A beautifully hand-addressed note card with the return address naming one you love dearly? One which you set on the table, unopened, while you prepare a cup of coffee and patiently create a special moment in which to sit down, open, and extract said letter?
I got a love-letter today in my mailbox. And I set it on the table, unopened, while I made myself a cup of coffee. I sat down with said cup of coffee, carefully opened the envelope and began to read. Handwritten and filled to the very edge were the thoughts of my beautiful daughter who lives thousands of miles away from me - but this afternoon she was right here with me, encouraging me as I prepare for my camino. My eyes welled, and I blinked away tears hot and brimming with love every now and then so that I could continue reading to the end. I found that I wanted to sit quietly with her thoughts and words long after I finished reading - that I might absorb each and every drop of what she shared with me.
She has done an expedition in the Talkeetna Mountains, she has taught English in a small village high in the mountains of Ecuador, she has traveled with backpack across Spain, and I am like an infant when it comes to what I am preparing to do. Her encouragement means more than a million guide books - for the journey is inside more than outside.
She reminded me of something I wrote last year -
Happy for sunshine brightening my face
Security; your presence opens my heart.
And the island I have been
disintegrates with messy tears
that I have held in.