I was thinking about what Rhett had said that maybe, when Scarlett was 45, she would understand about his sudden weakness for lost causes and the old times. So, here's Scarlett at 45.


Scarlett O'Hara Butler, at 45, was no longer young and pretty. But even now, she could still charm men into thinking she was 25 and beautiful if she ever bothered to try. That she seldom did these days, though not just because she was married and belonged to another.

The entire South had been in the hands of Democrats for almost two decades now and was about as close as it was ever going to get to the old days. But Scarlett, 17 years later, was as far as she would ever be from her former self. She had grown up since the day Melanie died and Rhett had left. She had become resigned to life and was willing to let it pass by without a fight rather than taking it by the horns and twisting it to her will as she had once tried to do before. The spark and buoyancy had at last gone out of her snapping green eyes, just like all the others of the Old Confederacy at the end of the war. She now understood Grandma Fontaine's advice about always saving something to love and fear, but it was too late to follow it now. Melanie was gone, Rhett was gone, as was Bonnie and Mammy and Ellen and Gerald. Only Tara was left, but that was enough. Scarlett wasn't quite happy, but she was no longer unhappy either, always struggling for something beyond her reach. She was no longer the same woman as the girl who had run the mills and told anyone who annoyed her to go to hell.

Although she would always love Rhett, she no longer waited for him to love her back. He was once again received in Charleston and content with whatever he found that remained of the glamor and symmetry from before the war. He returned frequently enough to keep down gossip and she did not protest. They were polite and respectful but that was all. It had been too long, her tricks were useless, and it was too painful to wait. So, she let her marriage keep the appearance of a marriage; her passions had not died but Scarlett had given up.

Although she still fought ruthlessly for what she wanted, at least materialistcally, she realized that not everyone could be happy. And though she remained selfish, she was no longer petty; she realized there was a world that existed beyond herself and that the people in that world dealt with everything she had dealt with. Her struggles and losses were not limited to her alone. Fanny had lost a beau, Maybelle a child, and Mrs. Meade two. If she was not quite happy, it wasn't exactly an anomaly - was anyone really truly happy? Ashley and Hugh and countless others were gentlemen lost in a world that had no use for them. Plenty of women ended up as widows and spinsters. And some, like Cathleen Calvert who had at one point had more beaus than she could count, would end up worse. Perhaps it might have been easier if she hadn't had a chance of happiness and then lost it through her own blindness. But, it was too late now. Scarlett saw and accepted that some people would never be happy again, and this knowledge, together with the passing of time, dulled the pain that Rhett really didn't give a damn.

Although she would never forget the importance of money, she no longer saw it as the only thing that would ever matter. These days, Scarlett could tell the difference between glister and gold, real and imitations, pretense and true gentility. Her new friends of Carpetbaggers and Scallawags were long gone and the Old Guard slowly accepted her into their circle again. This time, Scarlett appreciated their company - it almost reminded her of the old days, memories she no longer kept locked up. Rhett was wrong. Now that Scarlett was 45, she too longed for the beauty of their old way of life.

"Do you remember..." they would say, and she would remember all the happy, carefree times they had had, times that were gone with the wind. She would never grow to be analytical but she realized why these veterans who shared her struggles and memories wished to keep the past alive. It didn't bore her anymore, or even make her sad. Scarlett, at 45, was just like the old people who spoke of the past she had often heard but never bothered to understand.


Review and tell me what you think please. : )