The Last Camino
December 19, 2014
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I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.
By the time a judge brought down the curtain, my mother and I were six thousand miles away, standing at a waystation on a yellow-arrowed path, like characters in some 21st century update to the Wizard of Oz. My mother wanted a cure for her cancer, or at least a break from “all the cutting and poison”, as she put it. I hadn’t believed there were any answers for my uncertainties high on the wild-dog-infested and wind-swept spine of a mountain range in northern Spain, so I had sort of convinced myself I wanted nothing.
I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new
