Pockets Full Of Gold

I‘m fresh from a long hot bath irresponsibly hot, irresponsibly long. Washing the day’s dust and doubt. You see, today Mike and I inked the deal. The Deal. The deal that moves us from the cloud side of the rainbow to the pot of gold. 1988. The year I graduated college. Freshly minted diploma in hand and the world at my feet. This same year I was certain a 100 year old farmhouse on 10 acres in small town Montana, found in the classifieds, was my perfect next step. You may have guessed; instead of the house on the range, I moved back home and picked up a dumpy rental with friends. I started my professional journey; a fabulous time with great stories, interesting triumphs, love. Mike and I have been talking about a different life since the day we met. The type of life imagined
as a fresh faced grad. These many years later, it is happening. Rather than a two story farmhouse, in a corner of Montana; we are closing on, a doll of a house, perched on a hilltop, presiding over 60 acres and a trio of yaks.
Today we walked the land with the seller. We crossed from one end to the next, down a sloping trail walked by natives, missionaries, herds of cattle, wild pigs, landowners, trail horses, and now us. Mike and I both agree we should make this walk daily; filling our boots with dust, our lungs with fresh breath, and our proverbial pockets with gold.