Feb 16th 2018
This piece has been sitting in drafts completed with a collection of other that were never published.
He gives me flowers
Flowers found throughout his day send him thoughts of me
He seems to see a part of me in every flower he sees
His love has changed what a flower means to me
There was a time when flowers were a thoughtful gift. They were pretty and colorful. They brightened up the room until they died. That was all they meant to me. They were given at specific holidays and occasions. Though, I knew never to expect them, they were protocol. I was often asked what my favorite was.
One day, long ago, my favorites were gifted to me as a parting gift and arrived to my new location the day after I got there. As gorgeous as those flowers were, those ceased to be my favorite then. Ironically, that particular bouquet had more meaning than any other I had received while in that story. It was an apology. I statement of remorse for driving something into the ground. A sympathetic notion implying that this uncomfortable moment in life was necessary for us both.
Then came the roses and the meaning placed on them. To him, this was the top of the list, the best by his standard; and I would receive no other type. I began to understand. I understood intellectually this statement declaring my worth in his eyes but I still did not feel the message.
Now, how we have grown: the flower and I.
Surrounded by the most powerful love I have witnessed to date, I am given sunflowers and the power of the sun bursts through the house and pierces me. It fills me with warmth and I can feel his amazement at the wonder of the sun kissed sky. I am humbled that he compares the warmth of the sun to the feeling that our ongoing story leaves in him daily. The delicate flower now brings with it this amazing thought. A most powerful message. The flower eventually wilts but the message is engraved into my existence.
This same flower was given on a rainy day and with it came a beacon that revealed that our life together made the largest storm beautiful in his eyes.
Always white roses around my birthday, greeting me at first light of day. White: Light, purity, and angelic. The day I was born and the holiday honoring love itself is associated with purity. The flowers seem to radiate a glowing ora.
Each type of flower given encased a knew message full of love and now I see so much more than a flower. Now it is anything but a protocol & the message stays with me thru time. Should I never receive another flower again, the powerful messages will remain with me.