What Carrie Carries
I wake up to more luxuries than I’m accustomed to on the Camino de Nathaniel. The Mystic Marriott Hotel & Spain in Groton serves a thin slice of the world population—a sliver that I’m usually not a part of. But the accommodations are free. Thank you, Marriott!
It’s raining at breakfast and I’m definitely stalling in the restaurant in the hotel lobby. June, the hostess, and Natalie, the waitress, at the Octagon Restaurant (connected to the hotel) personalize my breakfast experience in this beautiful and rather opulent setting. There are always listening ears along the road, and theirs are attentive as I talk of my walk.
As I repack my backpack, I realize that I described in a previous blog what I carry inside, but I haven’t spoken about the pack itself. It belongs to Carrie, and I’m so pleased to be using it for this pilgrimage. Every time I put it on or take it off, I think of her. As I carry it daily, I think about what Carrie carries every day in her “backpack of life.” Her brother, Nathaniel, was her first and best friend. Parents are not always privileged to know and understand fully the deep bond between their children. I do know, however, that hers and Nathaniel’s was incredibly special.
I have lost my parents, relatives, and some dear friends, but never a sibling. Carrie has. And now in our family of three, she is it on the offspring front. There are families who only have one child, but not many of them become only children through loss. Forging a new identity and envisioning a future without Nathaniel must be monumental work for her. It certainly is for parents who have lost a child, but at least Judy and I still have each other.
What Carrie carries is a heavy load, one that I can’t do anything about. I am comforted to see Nathaniel’s best friends, the Furious Five (Carl, Dan, Justin, and Nate) bringing her into their circle. Like her close cousins and special friends, they are becoming like siblings, but they are not Nathaniel. What Carrie carries is heavier than the pack on my back today. Although I hope the weight will lessen with time, it will always be hard to carry. Carrying her backpack is the one thing I can do on this long journey to Boston. I hope it lightens her load just a little bit.
P.S. I pass Mystic, CT in the mist. How appropriate! The address I have for this evening’s accommodations (Stu and Casey’s home–Shipley friends) takes me to one place, but my hosts live 4 miles further east. Google map likes the Denison Street in Mystic while the real Denison (the one I want) is in Stonington. The extra four miles of walk happens at the wrong time, because I get thoroughly soaked (again). I’m tired of this rain. When will it end? Tomorrow!
