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The rustle of the wind through the trees... ah. What peace it brings to the mind, the tumultuous heart, and the ruffled spirit. The scent of rain is in the air and my pillow beckons me to lay my dizzy head upon it but first I felt I must write.
I am most grateful for my Father's mindfulness and attention to my life. I have been quite distressed as of late in the matters of love and knowing one's heart as well as one's mind. Hatred bloomed without my knowledge and the flames were fanned into such a roar that I could barely hear my heart whispering that it was alright. It was broken, but it knows how to mend because it has been lovingly taught by its maker.
I very nearly wrote a post the other day for your reading pleasure in which I planned to allow the venom of my pain to scorch the eyes of any who in bored leisure happened upon it. There are still many things that my spite would utter if I would but unleash it however I know that in hindsight I would regret it--not for the sake of those who might find their names illustrated by it in false accountability but for my sake. Perhaps it is a selfish notion, but recently I have realized that I have been tossing my heart into the wind without the protection of a sound mind and steady sensibility.
I have allowed myself to be hurt multiple times in the last few months and have been soundly admonished by word and experience that, in the end, I am the one to blame.
Forgiveness is taking place in my heart, slowly but surely. But this forgiveness is not to be treated as synonymous with forgetfulness. Plans are being laid and structured to shut out the toxicity that lingers from certain experiences, bitter though instructive as they were, so that I might not continue the cyclical downswing into the depths of anger that should never have had place in my heart to begin with.
Please forgive my boldness of speech if it has ever hurt you but I will not change in my forthrightness as far as it keeps those around me from misreading my interactions with them and where I stand in my affection for them. Honesty. It is a virtue that continues to churn in my mind and will forever hold sway in my regard of those around me.

As some of you may have read in my recent statuses on Facebook, I have been watching quite a few period dramas as of late. Tonight's feature was Mansfield Park. Something occurred to me that has always been true though had only been acknowledged on a partially subconscious level. When everything is said and done, I am quite terrified of ending up with a man who hasn't been completely honest with me from the start. Admittedly, I have known a few men that were able to disarm me completely with their charm and some of those I have fallen into like with. Be wary of charm, my friends, for it covers up many defects that could hurt in the long run. If a man's temper is such that it is tossed with every breath of wind, I tremble to think where his anger might turn. When a man raises his voice around me in any degree of harshness I become very frightened. Physically I am not strong. If I feel threatened or that a man's attention is more pointed than it should be, I am quick to remove myself from the situation or, if given warning of it before the situation of being alone with him arises, I keep the situation from happening.
Call it instinct, a gut-feeling if you will.

The man I marry, I pray, will have an even temper. Have an empathetic disposition. Be of an honest nature. And I pray he is strong without being frightening to me in any way. I suppose this might be a lot to hope for and perhaps in the coming years I will become stronger and be able to handle someone who is a bit more moody but at this moment in time... but then, perhaps that is why my situation is the way it is at the moment. Growing up is difficult--and taking a lot longer than I thought it would.
I pray that I will be worthy of him when the time comes--when we finally meet. And that I will understand why I had to fight my way through these years meeting such men as had good qualities but not the ones that complimented me well enough to stand the test of time--no matter how short their allotted time with me happened to be.

And now a "treat" for any of you who have trudged through this post.

His attention snapped from the ground to the woman who approached him. The wind had whisked its way past her form and brought the scent of autumn in the mountains. It mingled in the air with the petrichor and brought back the ache that he thought had been diminished by time. She had, after all, left him on a day very similar to this one five years before. 
The memory played for him as though it had happened just yesterday. The tears in her eyes as she admitted to being unsure of her feelings for him. They had been seated under the roof of the gazebo in his parents' backyard while it had rained. They both knew he would ask for they had talked about the prospect of a future together multiple times--so how could he not?
Just as the rain had lifted, he slipped down to one knee before her and opened the small velvet box to show the small sparkle that he had been able to afford then. She had begun to cry. He had anticipated it, having been told by his friends that they had cried or that their wives had cried. 
But the "no" had been a surprise. 
"Hello, Nathan," she said softly, bringing him back to the present. Her hair had gotten longer. Had her face always looked so mature? She was dressed smartly in her black pea coat that obscured any glimpse of the dress she must have been wearing underneath. 
His heart pricked again as he took in her appearance--she had matured. The very air about her was confident. He might have thought her a completely different person but... he would never forget that smell.
"Margaret," he finally said, his voice huskier than he anticipated. Did pain flicker across her brow? "Or do you still go by Maggie?" he asked. Ah, yes. The tenseness in her shoulders dispersed and her smile grew more genuine. 
"Maggie," she affirmed taking another step closer and he turned, offering his arm to her. She slipped her hand into his, tentative at first but more assured as they walked back down the way he had come. 
"We didn't expect you for another day or so," he began glancing down at her curly brown hair to see her nodding. 
"Yes, well, I guess I couldn't stand being away for even a day more," she said casting a smile up at him. He nodded in his turn and they continued to walk in silence. He gazed about at the dewy grass and autumn leaves that strewed the ground and he wondered how much longer they had until it would start to snow in their little town. "There hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about you, Nathan," Maggie said suddenly causing him to refocus his attention on her. He wondered why she had brought such a topic up. Hadn't she seen the announcement? "I realized soon after I left that I had done wrongly, Nathan. But you know me... too proud for my own good!" she rattled on and he stopped walking which only caused her to slip easily from his arm and turn to look at him as she continued but as his horrified expression finally registered in her mind her words drifted off and she looked perplexed. 
"What's wrong...?" she asked after a small time, the wind picking up and tossing her curls as washing his senses with the old but cherished scent. He had been so sure that he was over her--or at least that her arrival back in town had been only the casual visit to her parents. 
"Maggie... didn't anyone mention....? Didn't you see....?" he stuttered not being able to put the truth into words the problem only causing more discomfort when she slowly shook her head to indicate the negative. He wet his lips nervously before taking her hand in his and he felt or rather acknowledged the sensation of the metal band that kept the contact of her fingers upon his from being complete and she looked down at their joined hands before slowly turning Nathan's hand, his left hand, over. The silver gleamed bright even in the overcast light. 
"Oh Nate..." she said, the tremor in her voice glaringly evident and only amplified by her embarrassment. He felt her tears before he saw them. But when she tilted her face up it held a self-deprecating smile. The wind kicked up one more time and he pursed his lips before turning his face away. He would never forget that smell. 
"I guess I should congratulate you..." she managed before pressing her hand firmly but gently against his arm. He couldn't find his voice and he didn't watch as he heard the click of her boots as she ran.