I do not own Mona Lisa Smile.

I never thought of this before. And now I love it.

Not All Who Wander Are Aimless

Really Truly Happy

She has applied to Yale, law school.

"Well, you have to now. Do you think your conversation with the greaser on the corner should go on your application?"

"Giselle!"

And now all she has to do is wait.

"What, I'm serious!"

To see if she gets in.

They like to sit out on the fire escape at night sometimes.

Share a cigarette here and there.

Watch the people, watch the cars, the lights.

Listen to the sounds of the city that never sleeps.

And, in general, . . .

"I still can't believe I'm doing this. Not in a million years."

"Having second thoughts?"

"No, not at all. I just can't believe it."

. . . watch the world go by.

"I may not be home until late. Richard's got tickets to Broadway."

"Really?"

"You could go too. I think he has a friend."

"Oh no. I'm not ready."

"Do you want me to cancel?"

"No. Go. Have fun. I'm going to draw a bath, turn in early."

"Alright. Enjoy."

"I will."

And she does draw a bath.

Does turn in early.

Lays in bed alone.

Staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance.

Listening to the car horns.

And letting her thoughts . . .

I could be home right now.

. . . wander.

Wrapping a late supper up for Spencer, wondering how many meetings a week one man can have.

Fluffing the pillows, setting his slippers, his pipe for when he ever gets home.

Worrying over his shirts, the crease in his slacks.

I could be watching Joan and Tommy kiss and wishing Spencer at me for even one second like Tommy looks at Joan.

Wondering if this is the way it's actually supposed to be.

Then she rolls over.

I'm glad I'm not home.

And goes peacefully to sleep.

It is gradual then that Elizabeth "Betty" Margaret "Flicka" Warren Jones finds herself becoming happy.

Not the drawn up tight and rigid happy that she felt she always had been at school.

Not the anxious, pressured happy she had been growing up under the unflinching rule of law of her mother.

Not the bitter, self-righteous, determined happy she had found herself more and more becoming during her dissatisfying marriage.

Not Mona Lisa happy.

Really . . .

"I think it's time for ice cream."

. . . truly . . .

"Giselle, we're going to get fat, eating ice cream all the time."

. . . honestly . . .

"Not if we walk there!"

. . . happy.

Ice cream is the ultimate good of course.

;)

Thanks for reading!