Louise rambles down the street in her cable-knit sweater, wrinkled hands holding a harmonica to her wrinkled lips. She breathes into it and the notes blare out into the quiet morning. Louise has only recently started taking harmonica lessons, but it something she has wanted to do her whole life. She knows she is getting old; chances to fulfill her dreams are becoming scarce, and she can’t stand to have any more regrets.
With her harmonica, Louise mourns for all the missed opportunities. Do—she didn’t apply for an Ivy League school because, at the time, she thought she wasn’t good enough. Mi—she’s never been to India, a desire of hers since childhood. Fa—she never asked Jerry Paulson on a date in high school. La—she never met the daughter that she aborted. Louise’s life hasn’t been all bad, but looking back on it, she wishes it were longer. She knows she can’t change anything, but she also knows that she finally has a harmonica. She’s not going to let anybody take that away from her.