She’s the same height as me though she weighs less. Is she a size 8? Yes, that sounds about right.
Every day she wears makeup, just not very much. Foundation, of course. A hint of lipstick. And blush. Of course she wears blush.
I’m not exactly sure how you’d describe her style, as I myself am so terribly backward in that area. Maybe some specific examples will work? She wears sweaters coordinated to a shirt beneath. Dark pants. Sensible shoes and knee-high tights. Often she wears dresses and nude panty hose. She is polished, subdued, unobtrusive. Her hair is curled with an iron. It is never frizzy.
Does she ever need to push her glasses up her nose? Never.
This girl studied hard in school and became a teacher. She married young, taught before her first child was born, then intended to return straightaway to work. And why wouldn’t she? It’s what her own mother did, and no harm at all came to this girl. But something happened. Holding her infant daughter made the decision to be poor and at home rather than less-poor and at work an easy one. Just for a year, the girl said, but the year stretched to two then three then four.
That was acceptable even though it was not preferred. The girl carried on raising the child and then children even as it became apparent that her marriage would not make it. Did she waver in her devotion even once? No, never. She kept faith that God would provide in all ways, until the perfect moment arrived and in one quick stroke she severed the union. Cleanly, with no muss.
She made out well in the divorce, the girl did. Her ex ended up paying all her expenses, as that was his obligation. Because she is nothing if not responsible, she immediately put her children into the care of another and began working a real job. She possesses a wonderful eduction; why waste it by sitting at home making pennies, squandering the talents God so generously gave her?
So she taught, every day donning her sensible yet attractive outfits and modest makeup. She provided young people the tools with which to write, or perhaps she guided them in the various chemical compounds that make up the world. At the end of each day she fetched her children from a room full of similar little children and took them home alone.
Somehow in this life of teaching and fetching she met a man. Not online, because the online world is scary and unpredictable. She knew she could only trust men from the “real” world, so she scoured places like work, church and perhaps even the grocery story — discreetly though! — for her next husband. She remembered throughout that dating had only one goal and that no decent woman would give up the prize before reaching it.
With intelligence and focus she landed a new provider with less fuss than you might imagine. And then began the next (and best) phase of her life, wherein she raised her children (and perhaps his children, or their children), worked and flourished under the protection of her new husband, the husband she ought to have had all along.
She is happy to be wife, mother and teacher. She is content. She is quiet.
We might be friends, this lovely woman and I. Some days I wish I could be more like her, because she’s the one my parents love.
Too bad she doesn’t exist.
