Impressions No. 3...

I promise myself that today, TODAY, I will talk to you if you get on my train and smile at me as you usually do. I will strike up witty conversation – the kind that you will think of later, longingly, over the glass of wine I am sure you end each day with as you lounge in your apartment. In my head, the décor is mid-century modern, and you have a chocolate lab, perhaps, that lolls on the couch. French doors open onto a terrace where, after we know each other better, we will have breakfast and read the op/ed section of the paper out loud, laughing.

And then you DO get on, and I prepare myself, but you are holding the hand of a woman. The kind I hope to become - a woman with a perfect pedicure, shiny hair and lingerie that matches, but is down to earth and kind. She giggles up at you, with her white, white teeth, and I can see that she is happy. But you look at me, and smile, as you usually do. I can’t help but think of that song “Ironic” and the lyrics “It’s like meeting the man of my dreams, and then meeting his beautiful wife.” But I smile back, because I see no ring and one day, I think, she won't be there, and I’ll be brave.