Pilgrim Blog: Last Day

Peter:
I still don't know what day it is, exactly. I'm not quite sure what day I got home, but I have a sneaking suspicion it was yesterday morning. It feels like I got home either an hour ago or a week ago, and my internal clock is still indecisive on which it is. Anyways, seeing as how Mrs. Willits posted about July 23rd, I think I am supposed to comment on July 24th, yesterday, the day we all arrived home. The first thing I remember about July 24th is waking up to the shock of the Airtran pilot turning all the cabin lights on. This was at four something in the morning as we arrived at the Atlanta airport. After hearing the simultaneous groans and yelps of all the rudely awakened passengers, we landed and deboarded in the Atlanta airport, which was the first official stop of our pilgrimage. Most of us walked directly to concourse A, where nearly two weeks ago many of the pilgrims had their very first experience with Chick-fil-a. We saw the area where all of the pilgrims played apples to apples together. That silly game, which was so instrumental in our team building, seemed like it took place ages ago. It was five in the morning at this point, however, so Cinnabon, which was located next to Chick-fil-a, seemed to be the better breakfast choice. So we sat, inhaling our unhealthy breakfasts while we talked and laughed with mouths that stuck with Cinnabon icing. We all tried to savor the last few hours we would be spending together. Each of us knew that we would be home in mere hours, but nobody wanted to say it. See, one of the interesting things about going on a pilgrimage is that you can become quite close to those who experience it with you. I've made life-long friends on this trip and it was, in the truest sense of the cliché, a bittersweet experience to be with them in those last few hours. Three of us will be going to college soon. Two others will be entering the service. I am quite jealous of those pilgrims who will continue to attend Framingham High together, as they will continue to see each other nearly every day. Hopefully those friendships will only strengthen in the years to come. The time came to leave concourse A and we trekked back to concourse C, where our plane was waiting for us. After some personal words of appreciation from the chaperones and pilgrims alike, we boarded our flight to Boston and started on our trip home. I don't have much to write about that flight, as I slept through pretty much the entire thing. In the words of Joanne Connolly, I am the sleeping champion. Our plane arrived in Boston and we made our way to baggage claim. Joanne and I tried to hide Damian, the Dragaroo flag, so we could keep him for ourselves. The chaperone's clearer heads prevailed, however, and Damian was taken from his hiding place in my bag so he could be given his last two signatures, from Fr. Matt and Steve Colella. From there, Bill took custody of the flag so that St. George's can have a concrete piece of evidence of the life-changing experience that is World Youth Day. Eventually, the time came. We all said our goodbyes, with handshakes, hugs, and fist pounds. Promises of "Madrid, 2011" were made. We all went our separate ways, some of us going home from the airport with our families, some of us taking the Logan Express to Framingham. As for myself, I arrived home, hugged my mom for the first time in two weeks, and looked through some of the pictures from our pilgrimage. Then, true to character, I took a nap.As much as I would have preferred to keep the flag for myself, it is quite appropriate that it goes to St. George's, if for no other reason than as a token of appreciation from the pilgrims to the congregation of the parish. Make no mistake; this was a life-changing experience, and we appreciate the sacrifices and donations you all made to get us here. I say "here" and not "there," because World Youth Day hasn't simply finished upon our arrival home. It never ends. It has transformed each and every one of us. We've all grown in our spiritual lives. Even if that growth was something so miniscule as a pilgrim realizing that he or she doesn't have to groan every time someone wants to start a rosary, or realizing that confession doesn't actually hurt, or simply that mass is something that should be appreciated and not avoided, the pilgrimage was worth it. It is difficult to gage the change that happens in the hearts of the pilgrims. As the priest from the New York group said, the change that happens with this pilgrimage is very real, very deep, and very personal. I am certain, though, that there is not one pilgrim who has remained spiritually static in these two weeks. So to the St. George congregation, to those who helped us get to Australia, enjoy Damian, the Dragaroo flag. Know that some of us pilgrims have become very attached to him, and give him to you with grave seriousness. We all realize, however, that there is nothing in this world that we could give to you that equals the experience you have given us. It may be comforting to know that some of us have vocalized our desire to be pilgrims and chaperones for the next World Youth Day. So until next time, in Madrid, 2011,Thank you from the bottom of our heartsPeter Bowman and the Dragaroos.