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My dearest Marie,
I am writing this letter to tell you how much I love you, as I did when we first met. The mere sight of you made my knees weak, and if I am honest, they still do, after forty-five years. We have been through many mini crises with our children and parents, but have remained steady through it all.
As you know we have had our differences and I feel I can be honest with you after all of the devoted years we have spent together. I do and always will love you more than anything else in this world. I hesitate to hope you will take the following confession as it is meant, honestly and with a sincere apology.
If you remember the years when our children were almost teenagers, and my job was very demanding, requiring me to spend many hours away from you and our children. That was when it happened, my affair, which I am certain will be what you will name it. It was one tired night in an office. A coming together out of frustration and exhaustion at work. It was not romantic or loving, it was satisfying a particular need at the time. You probably also remember I would come home so tired that even if you had not already fallen asleep, I had no strength or will to love you. I know it was wrong, but I hope, not unforgivable. I wanted to tell you so many times.
When you read this letter, I hope you realize it comes with regrets for the lateness of my confession and a hope we may start a new relationship, as it was when it was just the two of us without pressure of family or jobs. I have enclosed two tickets to your favorite opera, La Boheme, for this evening. If you choose to forgive me, I will be waiting in the lobby of the theater at eight o’clock. My heart is yours, always has been and always will be.
The Bag Lady 
This is good. I do hope she forgives him.
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