I spend my last night of our pilgrimage to Italy on the balcony of my hotel room drinking cheap wine and looking up at a heavy sky. I feel anchored—not wanting to leave this spot. I don’t want to move but I know it’s time to leave. The mood on the bus to the airport the next morning is a medley: Some pilgrims are quiet, some are chatty. I’m somewhere in between. I crave conversation, but I also want to remove myself and savor these final moments. I spend the long hours on the plane journaling and looking at pictures, memorabilia, schlock I’m bringing home. We land at Chicago’s O’Hare for a layover.
As I wait for the last flight, my mind regains some of its focus. It’s time to resume my normal life. My shoulders hang low from backpack fatigue. My eyes are strained and weary. But it is my pilgrim heart, eager and restless, that still wanders the sun-kissed streets of Italy.
—from Franciscan Spirit‘s “Roamin’ Catholic: Always a Pilgrim“
by Christopher Heffron
