She woke at her usual early morning hour. The warm tropical air pouring into her bedroom smelled of bougainvillea tinged with the faint aroma of night blooming jasmine. Something was different. It was quiet, so quiet she could hear a gecko chirp in the hallway. She remembered why it was so quiet now. It made her smile. Then she stretched and slid her hands over the new satin sheets she had put on the bed for the first time, something she had longed to do for years. The satin was soft and gently caressed her skin exactly how she had imagined.

She was alone. No pressing business, no immediate tasks to attend to. No need to rush. She smiled to herself, stretched again, closed her eyes and dozed.

She awoke, glanced at the clock, then slid out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, avoiding the mirror. It was too early to contemplate the ravages time had visited upon her once-athletic body.

She took a long, uninterrupted shower, caught herself checking for bruises out of habit and laughed out loud. No longer any need. She decided to do her stretches in the shower for the first time in years.

Glorious.

Dressing quickly, she confronted herself in the mirror. Today would be a no makeup today, as in no-more-need-for-makeup days. No need to put cover up on discolored skin. No need to wear a scarf to cover her neck. No need to wear big sunglasses to deflect attention from ugly dark circles.

Tuesday was market day when people swarmed her normally quiet Panamanian mountain town. Farmers would arrive with their fresh produce, artists with their crafts. She had never been allowed to wander and socialize, had always been pushed or pulled, stopping only long enough to buy, not browse.

Today would be different. This would be her first visit as a widow.

She looked forward to it.