(photo taken from myvintagevogue.com via http://www.flickr.com/photos/vintagevogue/)
This woman talked herself into and out of buying flowers for her man several dozen times this morning before finally, painfully, coming to the conclusion that purple was not too feminine and that he would be touched by her gesture and love her all the more.
This woman chose her look with great care. She had her dress ironed and starched in anticipation of this very moment. well, not this very moment, obviously. But for the moment that would soon be unfolding on this very spot. Her gloves are pressed and lightly scented with honeysuckle water. Her earrings, a gift from her aunt in Paris. Her hat, white and newly purchased from the shop seemed to her a small fortune but worth the scrimping she would have to do in order to afford such a luxury.
This woman shoves down her worry and the desire to pace. It is unbecoming in a lady. Instead she stays lightly perched on her seat, face forward, eyes intent. The phone does not ring. His train does not come.
This woman is an optimist, a fighter and a survivor. In 10 minutes she will decide that 4 hours is long enough for today. She will stand up, dust her bottom and smooth out the wrinkles in her dress. She will hold her head high and walk up the lane and hail a cab to drive her up the hill to her home. She will return tomorrow and for as many tomorrows as it takes, until her moment unfolds as it ought to, as she planned. But for now, she sits, she waits. She is an optimistic woman.