Tribute to Camino

I miss the Camino
in ways difficult to explain
to those who have never walked it

It was never only a trail through Spain.
It was a quiet river
flowing through the soul.

I miss the early mornings
when darkness still held the sky,
when headlamps danced silently ahead
like wandering stars searching for meaning.

I miss the sound of boots on gravel,
the rhythm of breathing,
the cool air touching tired faces,
and the first golden light
spilling softly across ancient villages.

I miss the yellow arrows—
simple little signs
that somehow felt wiser
than many people.
No speeches.
No arguments.
Just:
“This way.”

And somehow,
life itself became simpler there.

Walk.
Breathe.
Trust.
Continue.

I miss the strangers
who slowly became companions of the heart.
People from distant countries,
different languages,
different histories—
yet somehow familiar,
as if the Camino had introduced souls
long before bodies arrived.

A shared meal.
A blister treated kindly.
A quiet “Buen Camino”
from someone disappearing into the mist.

Small things.
Sacred things.

I miss carrying everything I needed
upon my back
and discovering
how little a human being truly requires
to feel alive.

The Camino stripped away noise.
Status disappeared.
Ego softened.
Masks fell quietly to the ground
mile after mile.

And somewhere between exhaustion and wonder,
the heart began speaking again.

I miss the churches
standing silently for centuries,
the ringing bells in distant towns,
the candles flickering before saints,
the old women whispering prayers
with weathered hands
that seemed to hold the faith of generations.

I miss Finisterre sunsets
where the ocean swallowed the dying sun,
and Muxía winds
that carried sorrow and gratitude together
into the endless Atlantic.

Most of all,
I miss the person I became there.

A little slower.
A little softer.
A little more grateful.
A little less afraid.

The Camino does not truly end
in Santiago,
or Finisterre,
or Muxía.

It continues quietly within us—
in how we love,
how we forgive,
how we endure difficult climbs,
and how we learn
to keep walking
even when the road disappears around the bend.

And perhaps that is why
the longing never leaves.

Because once the Camino
travels through your soul,
a part of you
is always walking there.