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.