Finding Dad

He died when I was 10 years old. It's a wound that's never stopped hurting. Touching it almost always leaves me feeling angry...ripped off...sad.

Last night, when I remembered that today's the anniversary of when he left, I expected the day would be a sad one. But somehow, when I put my foot on the path this morning, I found space for a new thought-- gratitude-- and the ability to decide "No, this *won't* be a sad day!"

And so I walked, 30km through the Spanish countryside-- along rich fields, over rolling hills, through centuries-old villages-- and I felt thankful.

Thankful I had eyes to see the amazing greens and blues and browns and whites surrounding me.

Thankful for my body, moving me through space and able to enjoy cool morning breezes and the warm afternoon sun.

Thankful for a heart that lets me appreciate the beauty I see, and form connections with the people I meet.

Thankful for the curious mind that led me to choose this adventure, and squeeze all I can from it.

And Thankful to my Dad for everything he did to give me this.

I don't know how long this will last. I don't know how often I'll find the grace to say "No, this *won't* be a sad day!"

But I had today, sore feet and all, and I'm good with that. Thanks Dad. I love you.Baca lagi