Scott showed up as an email.

There’s a property in Kentucky he wanted to buy from me. I get letters regularly from predatory buyers who offer “$CASH$ in 30 Days!!!” but the cash they offer is half what I paid for it.

I shot back a reply. “I’m not selling it for less than I paid.” He said he wouldn’t have reached out to offer less than I paid.

We were both interested enough to get on the phone. He asked, “At what price would you be willing to sell?” I said I didn’t know, had to talk to a couple people. He encouraged me to speak with those who are familiar with the area.

I made a list of people I might talk with. The realtor who sold me the property? A wise friend? The guy in my condo building who is a real estate agent?

Instead of calling any of them, I consulted the person whose thoughts and feelings mattered most: me.

I thought about the price range Scott had quoted for land in the area. I researched recent land sales. And then I sat in my big chair and imagined.

I’d named it Beloved Field. It’s a magical place. When I take out my notebook to write, a butterfly will land on my shoulder, or my hand. It’s the place where it feels like Trent checks in on me.

Question: Do I want the land, or do I want what I could do with the money?

Answer: I want to have more adventures!

I sent Scott a text. He called back. I read from the paper I had typed up because I wanted to be clear and sure.

“Buyer agrees to pay all costs/fees associated with the transaction, and to pay seller either:

• [dollar amount], OR
• [smaller dollar amount] plus buyer gives seller 15 minutes of his time to hear a story.”

There was a pause. Then,

“I’d love to hear your story.”

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Chewing the Cud of Good

Thankful for little miracles.