See you in 3 minutes... Or 3 days ... Or 3 months - whichever applies

"See you in three minutes," they would say as they passed us on the narrow trails of the Camino.  Sure enough, in three minutes they would be sitting in the shade.  A cheery wave would welcome us to their new place of refuge from the sun, and as we strolled on by one would be sure to say, "see you in three minutes."  "They" were two teenaged boys walking the first part of el Camino with their parents.  While it was a obvious they were a close family, they chose to spend this day playing  "see you in three minutes" with us. Toward the end of a long day, they had been separated from their parents for over four hours, and it was obvious they were becoming a little nervous.  We helped them regain contact, and the last time I saw them was sitting outside the albergue where I was staying.  "See you in three minutes," I joked ... And just like that they were gone out of my life.

A long time ago I read a Readers Digest article written by a family member of a Canadian soldier.  The gist of the story was that the author was bemoaning the  the fact that because she was an "army brat" her life was a continuous series of saying hello and goodbye.  No sooner would she make a friend than she would have to tell her friend she was moving, and say goodbye. She felt sorry for herself until one day she realized that that was what life is: a series of hellos and goodbyes.  

In SJPDP the other day, we met people whom we may never see again, and we met people we may see again in three days.  Some I hope I do: 72 yr old from San Fransisco - "see you in three days". Mystery man from Russel, ON - "see you in three days."

On the way up the mountain on day one, very near the top but with one major hill left to climb, we passed two ladies from Finland.  They looked distressed - the younger one stopping often, so often that I asked her is she was OK.  Did she need food or water?  We were 8 hours in to a gruelling day, and there's no way to know how many it may have taken them to get that far. She assured me she was all right, so we passed them by.  They were near the top, but at that point there was no way of knowing how near.  

An hour later, during a long descent there another lady was under a tree.  It was beginning to get dark on this wooded decline, and she said, "I'm waiting for my friends". She also was from Finland, and we told her we had passed an hour ago, assured her they were still coming but were moving very slow.  As of yet, we have not seen any of them again.  Lorraine said if they made it to Ronscevalles at least two of them would have bought an immediate flight back to Finland.  I don't know ... But to them I say a hopeful, "See you in three days." 

As I write this, a man whom I can hardly understand (and I know he can't understand my Grand Manan Englisjh) have just had a ten minute talk.  He's shutting up the albergue for the night and I'm writing in the enclosed courtyard.  We struggle to communicate well, but as he walked away he turned back and said, "Buen Camino, Bon Chemin", to which I simply replied, "Gracias. See you in three minutes."