She has come to the lake today to ask for forgiveness. This is a ceremonious act she intentionally chose to close a chapter in her life that she has long spent time working on.

She was dressed comfy casual but still chic with her Louis Vuitton bag. And not a fake, this was real. As she placed her classic monogram hobo style bag on her lap, she recalled the day she had parted ways with almost a month’s salary to assume ownership.

It was a warm July evening and she wore a light summer dress. She loved Edinburgh at this time of year. She loved Edinburgh at any time of year really, but this time of year was one of her favorites.

They took their seats, P103 and P104, and sat down upon the red velvet chairs. She asked her husband how he had managed to get such great seats, waiting to hear if he had blown the budget.

“I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you”. She wasn’t entirely sure what the lyrics meant in the song, but she felt every word course through her body, like an arrow hitting her heart on every beat.

Check in had been far less painful than anticipated and the line for security had moved efficiently this morning. Her gate wasn’t far and she had arrived early enough that there were plenty of seats to choose from. She had positioned herself beside a window that to her left took in the runway activity and straight ahead and to her right, she could people-watch in fascination. One of her favorite pastimes.

One day, she thought, we’ll live in a brownstone. For now, they lived in a studio apartment in a pre-war building that had been renovated with a modern staircase that didn’t carry the stories as far back as she had hoped.

She woke just after 9AM as the sun attempted to stream into her studio apartment in the East Village. It was January, cold, and wet. The weather forecast had warned of the first snowstorm of the season this weekend and she eagerly anticipated its arrival.

She turned her gaze toward the Manhattan skyline. From her vantage point she had a clear view of the Empire State Building. It was mid September but the weather felt like mid August.

Can you call yourself a feminist if the main reason you’re letting your hair go gray is because your husband says it’s okay to do so?