Feeling: like I glow. Do I glow?
Listening to: Jewel - I Won't Walk Away
Reading/Watching: nothing

At long last: another Ampersand topic.

I wanted to do last month's, "why can't you be more like your sister/brother," but since my sister reads this, I decided not to go there. :o� Besides, our parents were never dumb enough to say something like that; it would've just ticked us off.

So this month's topic is "the evil that men do."

Worry not, this is no preliminary to a FemiNazi rant. I'm not talking about the evil that just the male of the species does. I'm talking about what we do to each other.

If the way to someone's heart is like a path, then we all begin with a dirt road in an open field. It's what happens after that, what people do or say as we're growing, that decides the fate of the road.

Some people pave it for us, loving unconditionally, planting flowers and trees and making sure no thorns grow over the way. Some people try their hardest to make it perfect, but just aren't strong enough to keep it perfect- there are too many tourists, casual passersby who pockmark the gravel, step on the flowers, leave trash on the ground.

I've never understood someone who could consciously do so. There is an open road in front of you, and you can't just walk it? Someone gives you a chance, and you can't just respect that? Is it so necessary to use someone as much as possible, without attempting to clean up your own mess?

I find that those with the greatest number of thorns, barbed wire, and electrified fences are the ones that tend to stomp flowers and leave gum wrappers.

I used to be greatly attracted to hotwiring the electric fence. I wanted to see inside, out of compassion or curiosity, I don't know. Sometimes it took years of patience, and sometimes I was just plain repelled, thorns in my skin and my hair standing on end.

The road for Mon Coeur (nickname for my *him*; get used to it) is so unabashedly open, it startles me. I'm used to guard dogs, forests of brambles. His has a simple gate. You must want inside, but once you are there, the way is bright and beautiful. I'm still marveling at the strength of the trees, the scent of the flowers, the sun on my eyelids.

And my padlocked gate, with the tricky combination code, is not too difficult, I feel. There is a rail-fence running alongside, with a hollow where the broken can crawl through unawares. And mon coeur guessed the entry code on the first try. I hadn't even given it to him; he just knew.

People have come here before: it is a cobblestone path. There is a garden, and birds singing, and occasionally the sun shines too hot. The potholes have never been mended, but they could be. And once inside, the entire path is his for the journey. I only hope he doesn't weary of mending the broken saplings.

There is evil that men do. Evil that women do. But at this moment, none of it can touch me. Mon coeur has closed the gate behind him, and is repairing me day by day.

::end mushy-ness::

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