Feeling: fluttery
Listening to: twittering choirs of birdies, of course
Reading/Watching: The Golden Compass, by Philip Pullman

It was raining yesterday morning, thick and cool, and I wanted to be out in it. So, we went for a walk.

It did not rain once we were outside. Mon coeur threw on the clothes he wore the day before, I was still in my pajamas with a wrap around my shoulders to keep warm. I wore beach sandals so that my good shoes wouldn't get hopelessly muddy.

I slipped and slid in the mud while he laughed at my footwear, the two of us talking quietly and sometimes walking in silence, looking at the intense green of the trees. A few deer peeped around bushes, checking us out, but I was usually too busy mudsliding to coax them closer.

We walked off the road onto a footpath (yay, less pavement, more mud), sometimes holding hands, sometimes scrambling to stay upright. I am thankful that I didn't fall. I started thinking about how the red mud tends to dye everything it touches, and how my white foam flip-flops were never going to be the same.

Then we stopped, and I hugged him to warm up. He rocked slightly side to side, the way he always does when he's holding me. It's like dancing.

And he asked me to marry him.

So, of course I said no and threw mud in his face and drove back to Texas in his car, leaving him stranded and weeping bitterly.

Or maybe instead I said yes and maybe he put an emerald ring on my finger (and maybe it was a size too small and it was funny), and maybe I'm engaged now.

I'll let you guess.

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