The Old Prospector

One day a young prospector with a heart of gold went off to roam the mountains in search of gold. Each day he would search for gold and each night he would make camp and build a fire. Long into the night he could be seen sitting by the fire writing stories. Often he would take a break from writing and gaze long into the fire and dream about all the fine things he was going to do and buy when he struck it rich. He dreamt about going to town to seek out and ask the finest lady to marry him. He would know when he found her, for she too would have a heart of gold. They would have lots of children and live in a big house furnished with nothing but the finest. They would eat in the finest restaurants and attend the most prestigious of events. Just thinking about it gave him great personal satisfaction.

On occasion he would go into town, sell some of his stories, and purchase badly needed supplies. Some of the townspeople would laugh and make fun of him. They would ask him, "Well, have you struck it rich yet?" The prospector would only smile and say to them, "Up to this moment in time I have not yet found any gold; but this I do know, the greatest riches lay within you!"

As the prospector headed out of town back into the wilderness he would stop to visit a woman he admired and adored very much. He liked her because she too had a dream. In her dream she was going to meet and marry a fine man. They would have lots of children and live in a big house furnished with nothing but the finest. They would eat in the finest restaurants and attend the most prestigious of events. Just thinking about it gave her great personal joy. She had been waiting for a long time for the right man to do all this with, but he had not yet come along. At the end of each visit the prospector would thank her for her friendship and encouraged her not to give up on her dream. He would give her a big affectionate hug and with a tear in his eye head back out into the wilderness, more determined than ever to find that gold and strike it rich.

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months, turned into years. The seasons would come and go: the newness of spring; the warmth of summer; the colors of autumn; and the bitter cold of winter. Throughout it all the prospector persevered in searching for that gold. Then one day, way off in the wilderness, in the bitter cold of winter the prospector now an old man, became ill and died. But just before he died he wrote something down on a piece of paper and put it in a sealed container.

The bitter cold winter turned into spring. From the same town that the old prospector had come from, a new young prospector came into the wilderness in search of gold. One day he came across the corpse of the old prospector and found a container grasped in one hand and a shovel of all things, in the other. Curiosity overwhelmed the young prospector and he picked up the container and opened it. Inside he found a pen and a stack of paper. On the top piece of paper were written the following words: "In the event you come across my corpse, could you be so kind enough to bury me, and upon digging my grave you find gold, "Just remember who found it first!" The young prospector had a good laugh over this, it was a good deep laugh that echoed throughout the wilderness. He remembered his mother telling him stories about a prospector who used to come to town and visit her. He wondered if this was the man. The next trip back into town for supplies he would ask her more about him.

The young prospector also had a heart of gold. Respecting the old prospectors wishes he picked up the shovel and began to dig a grave to bury him. And what do you suppose he found...

            Timothy E. Stevenson   1994©        revised: July 2015           www.Upoet.com