In the midst of charging up the hill ahead of me, Dad stopped, turned around, and yelled, “Hurry up and get up here before the tractor comes.”
I looked up to my left and saw a tractor about to join us on the Camino de Santiago. I got over to the side of the trail and as the driver passed by he smiled, then slowed and stopped, directing us to look in the cart he was pulling.
I saw yellow cherries and, at his urging, took a few. I called Dad over to take some as well and the driver said, “Bolsa! Bolsa!” From I have no idea where, I remembered that bolsa means bag. He was encouraging us to fill a bag with cherries. I dug into my pack and the first bag I found was the one that was holding my journal and our Camino passports. I put a few handfuls of cherries in it. “Mas! Mas!” the man said. I put a couple more handfuls in, and thanked him. He again encouraged me to take more but I already had more than enough for me, Dad, and whomever we would meet along the way. As he pulled away his smile back to us was tinged with a little disappointment that we didn’t take any more.
In the next town, other pilgrims pulled out small bags of the same cherries to offer to me and Dad. I pulled out my own bag to show them, and we all laughed in amazement at this bit of “Camino Magic.”
One Comment Add yours
Good morning Rebecca,
Nice post from the past! it made me smile…I hope your Dad and your family and Michael are well…and I know that you are ever-smiling!
peace & good,