Arriving in Santiago always feels like stepping into a dream that you are not quite ready to wake from. Today marked our final day walking together, the last physical steps of this long, winding Camino. We gathered at Monte do Gozo, finally reunited after being scattered across various albergues and reservations. With hugs, bright smiles, and a rousing “Happy Birthday” for Ana, we set off in a lighthearted, celebratory mood. At a luxurious 8:30 start, practically midmorning by Camino standards, we ambled the final 4 kilometers, arriving at the cathedral around 10:15, give or take a few spontaneous photo stops, café breaks, and extra stamps for those who wanted to squeeze in one last sello.

The moment we stepped into the Praza do Obradoiro, it felt as if our hearts all spilled out together into the square. We were happy, overwhelmed, and somehow already nostalgic before we had even finished hugging each other. Reaching the cathedral is beautifully bittersweet. There is joy in the accomplishment, pride in the perseverance, but also an ache because we do not want it to end. These weeks of laughter, blisters, shared dinners, and philosophical rants under thundering skies have welded us together in a way that feels deeper than everyday life allows.

After a storm of hugs and the usual group photos, some with tears and some with goofy faces, we dropped our packs into storage, perhaps the greatest act of freedom after weeks of carrying them like a second spine. We slipped into the cathedral to pay our respects to Saint James, a quiet, reverent moment to thank him for his silent companionship on this wild journey.

Soon after, we found ourselves around a table at a nearby café, beers in hand, grinning like kids on the first day of summer. I tossed out a question that took everyone off guard: “What have you learned about yourself on the Camino?” One by one, each person shared, and it felt like we were opening little treasure chests. There were stories of discovering personal strength, learning to lead rather than follow, finding peace in solitude, embracing vulnerability, and affirming old truths. It was as if the Camino had turned us inside out, and in that messy unraveling, we had each found something worth keeping.

The real question now is how do we carry this home? How do we keep the Camino alive inside us, not just as a story we tell, but as a quiet force that shapes us? I do not have the answer, but maybe it starts with remembering. Remembering each sunrise start, each unexpected act of kindness, each conversation that meandered deeper than we thought possible. Perhaps we live the Camino daily by walking through life with the same open heart we carried across Spain.

We scattered to run errands, prepare for Ana’s big birthday lunch, and tie up the final pilgrim tasks. That birthday meal turned into something beyond food and cake. It felt like the perfect ending, or rather, a new beginning. We celebrated not just Ana turning fifty, but also the family we had chosen along the way. We came from every corner, every background, and yet here we were, sharing a table as if we had known each other forever. We honored each person for who they are, and in that acceptance, found something beautifully human.

After lunch, one by one, we drifted away, some to visit family, some to catch flights, some to stay a bit longer and soak in the magic of Santiago. Each goodbye tugged at the heart a little more. But there was no sense of finality. Plans are already brewing, more Caminos, a potential pilgrim spa, even dreams of opening an albergue together someday.

None of us knows where the next path will lead, but we do know this: we are forever connected. We carry each other in our hearts, like little stamps from our journey, silent proof that we were here, we walked, and we loved every step.