It was my birthday, twenty three years ago, and I was away from home for six weeks of training for a new job. Homesick and feeling sorry for myself, I trudged through the long hours. When classes finally ended for the day, I headed toward the front desk of the hotel and saw a huge bouquet of white roses.
I was told they were mine. I smiled with surprise, and immediately knew my (then) husband had done this. He never had been much of a gift giver, but I thought, he must really miss me. The classmates who were around me gushed, “how romantic”. I took my flowers up to my room and opened the card. They were from my sister…now there’s someone who knows how to give a gift.
It was Mother’s Day, fourteen years ago, and I was expecting my third child. That pregnancy had been extremely difficult. It felt like I was carrying a toddler, my son was eventually born one ounce shy of ten pounds. I saw the florist’s van pull up in front of my house. I waddled my way to the door. It was a lovely bouquet of colorful flowers. Again, I thought my (then) husband had remembered Mother’s Day…so thoughtful. He felt my pain. I was so happy that my hormones got the best of me and eyes fill with tears. I opened the envelope and read the loving words my sister had written.
This year on my birthday, I trudged up the stairs of the front porch of my house after a long day at work. I saw a huge bouquet of flowers. My imagination took flight at the sight of them. I have no husband to assign credit to these days, but my imaginary boyfriend Colin might have come to his senses…
The flowers are from my sister.
THE DAILY POST
Aug 15, 2014
You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you?