She was average height for a girl and slightly more than average when it came to being ‘pretty’, although you would never hear that from her.
She would become a mum, but at this moment, she was single and hopeful.
She loved walking through the crisp autumn leaves, and she imagined the sound to be something like walking through confetti on a wedding day.
She knew her day would come, but she was in no hurry.
When she married and had a family of her own, she would cook with pride, but she would never get carried away. Cooking, for her, was one of the ways she showed her love. The fancy stuff was for those who pushed themselves forward; the shiny ones who ended up on reality television shows.
Even as a young woman she exuded an air of calmness and her choices were always conservative, but inside she was more than the warm skirt and cable knit jumper she was wearing on this cool autumn day.
Her heart wanted more, but she wasn’t sure what ‘more’ meant.
More, seemed to her, to require a depth of courage that she was not sure she possessed.
Her clothes were a good example of her thinking.
She longed to wear trousers.
Trousers had long been the symbol of equality.
“Men wear trousers and so can we.”
The thought frightened her a little.
She tried it once, but everywhere she went, she was sure that men were looking at her disapprovingly.
They weren’t; they were admiring her appearance, but that wasn’t what she saw.
The anxiety outweighed the excitement, so she went back to her comfortable skirts.
She consoled herself with the thought that she had good legs, and legs could be seen to advantage in a skirt.