Her body was old and frail, but she was much more than what her appearance hinted at. Born in the backwards countryside of southern Ireland, raised in colonial India, coming of age in wartime London, this woman was not one to be trifled with. Strength radiated from her in droves. 

“Oh, it was just so much fun,” she said in her tilting Icelandic accent, “the marriage, the parties, the divorce. New York City was just so much fun.” She looked over at me with a reminiscent smile and I could see her eyes twinkle at the memories. She meant it. She had no regrets. All that remained were fond recollections of a time long gone.