Last Friday was May 1st.  For 15 years, with two minor exceptions, I have given my spouse flowers on that day.  One exception was last year.  I am not sure what happened but I forgot, so I pushed it out one month.  June 1st is as random a day as May 1st.  The other exception was when I waited until the last minute and it was Sunday.  I had to wait a day that year.

We met at the end of April, 15 years ago.  That is a fair chunk of time.  I get her flowers both to suggest that I have been thinking of her and that I love her, as well as to, at least for me, commemorate when we met.  We did not meet on May 1st.  That was just the day I picked that was close enough.  Plus, if I don’t remember, no big deal.  It isn’t a specific day, just a time to remember and celebrate.

The thing is this:  I think my wife is amazing.  I love her like crazy.  I think she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met.  If it didn’t sound like I was exaggerating, I would say that she is the most beautiful woman I have ever met.  She is a terrific mom and a great friend.  I am truly lucky to have met her, and I am fortunate that she is willing to keep things going.

I used to get her one red rose.  That felt pretty romantic to me.  I have expanded since then.  I got her a whole passel of roses after ten years.  Now I get a mix.  This year it was pink roses and gerber daisies.  They brighten the place up.  A couple of years ago I decided to make flowers a part of life.  So one rose seemed too insignificant.  A bouquet had more punch.

And so we stay at it.  My parents have been married for over 40 years.  My wife’s grandparents have passed 60 years.  I am hoping, if the cheesecake doesn’t do me in too soon, that she can bear me for that long.  I am hoping that flowers (at least) once every year makes a difference.