Once, we dreamed of walking the famed Camino, pilgrimage covering months and miles through parts of Portugal, France, and Spain; ending at the field of the star where the saint is buried. It could even have been the honeymoon we never had, since after we married, a winter storm bore down on Chicago and we wound up spending the long weekend with our guests in a time-share rental whose dining table was still strewn with crumbs of lemon poppyseed cake and edible flowers. But we are no longer young, having spent so much of our lives working for the where- withal that gave us this mortgaged roof (shingles rattling above our heads in high wind), that made it possible to put children through school and pay various doctors for our ailments. How curious, this word which means with or by means of which a thing or outcome might be procured, typically by financial means—a compound of adverb and preposition followed by a suffix indicating condition or state. The Milky Way, in legends of the Camino, was made of the dust raised by pilgrims' feet. So many souls walking the paths marked by shrines and scallop shells in search of penance or of miracle, the exhausting labor of each step a ransom for their requests.