Departures. “When April with his showers sweet with fruit, the drought of March has pierced… then do folk long to go on pilgrimage… Of England they do Canterbury wend, there the Holy Blessed martyr there to seek…” So begins Chaucers Canterbury Tales. During this morning’s matins service at Canterbury Cathedral, the words were read “resume your journey” pertaining to Moses instructing the Hebrew to leave Mt Horeb ( the Mt Sinai region). During tonight’s compline service, the reader recited Simeon’s familiar words at the temple upon seeing the infant Jesus “now let thy servant depart in peace.”

Departures aren’t the same. While the same trip, my leaving 1659 Montcliff, my leaving E17 at Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, my leaving the Canterbury Cathedral Lodge early tomorrow are all slightly different. What I’m leaving behind, my family, my familiar habits, or my moving about by car or train, is slightly different in each “departure.”

As I depart Canterbury in a few hours, I wonder if I did as much walking as I needed? I’m probably as ready as I’ll be. For those parts that aren’t, well I’m just going to walk slowly into shape. Hopefully, my body will get reacquainted with itself as the first couple of days are only around ten miles per day. As I depart Canterbury, I wonder about the easily missed detour near Sheperdsville that previous hikers warned me about? Where is the P&O Ferry terminal which I have to reach by noon in two days in order to catch the only ferry allowing foot passengers? Hopefully, my mind can solve these riddles. As I depart Canterbury, my spirit is slowly settling into that sense of peaceful departure. A Sharing. A Brazilian woman and I sought Canterbury’s statue of Queen Bertha (my mother’s name). Aid. Two young local men helped us find that statue (although one laughed at his erroneous thought that it was Lady Guinevere). Kind words. The Dean of the Cathedral and another priest kindly asked me about my wallk. After I declared that I hoped to rest today, he asked me later this afternoon in a chance meeting if I had rested. “I didn’t think you would” after I sheepishly admitted that I hadn’t.

Departures aren’t all the same. Some are temporary; some are permanent. Some are planned; some are surprises. Some are trivial; some leave scars or memories of joy.

In a way, my departure tomorrow is less about what I’m leaving behind than what I’m anticipating. Rightly or wrongly, I assume that I’ll return to the same family and friends at 1659 Montcliff Ct, the same conveniences and craziness of Atlanta. As often is the case, maybe this departure is more about anticipating, whether it be anticipations of the body, mind, or spirit. Maybe it is time “when in April” to “resume my journey” and, in a less ultimate fashion than Simeon be allow “to depart in peace.”