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flowers openTulips

I sat quietly in my office, finishing up some reports and reviewing time cards. Mundane yet required tasks put off to the early afternoon because they require little energy or focus. I hear from the front office the words, “Flowers for me?” and I laugh knowing the guy who said it was being sarcastic. After a few moments I return to my computer screen, comparing column N to column E and deciding the numbers accurately show what I need to see. I answer a call. I return an email.

And then, from around the corner he appears at my office door holding a long box with the green words “Pro-Flowers” blazoning across all its sides. I can’t help but smile. Flowers. For me.

I excitedly open the box, knowing they are from the Cowboy, yet always anticipatory of what kind of flowers he will have chosen this time and what the card will say.

I quickly cut the tape on two sides and lift the edge. I see bright colors peeking through the wrapping but the card has to be first. The card is always read first. I pick it up eagerly lifting the tip of the sealed envelope. I pull at the paper and my eyes skim the vowels and consonants assembled to perfectly relay his heart. My eyes quickly fill with tears, one sneaking quietly down my cheek. I know his words have been carefully chosen and they do as he’d hoped and go like an arrow straight to my heart. Words of love and springs upcoming arrival and a reminder of both being given in the gift of  flowers. I smile as I reread the words, swallowing to keep additional tears at bay.

I softly lay the card on my keyboard so I do not lose sight of it and I reread it as I lift the arrangement from its box. I peel back the wrapping to see a dozen beautiful and brightly colored tulips. Another tear slips down my cheek. One of my very favorite flowers…of course he knows that.

I am sure that tulips delivered to Boise in the heart of winter cost a pretty penny. And I am sure, knowing what I do about the Cowboy that they were ordered days ago on his well-used account at Pro-flowers.  What I wonder is if he knows that each time I receive them, whether delivered by him, or by the man in the Fed-Ex uniform, I feel more loved than I did the day before.

I get the same feeling every time he leaves me each Saturday morning as we grocery shop together, to ‘sneak’ over and pick a bouquet from the bins at the store. I feel it as he walks up to me with them hid behind his back and I pretend I don’t know where he’s been or what he’s hiding. I feel it when he presents them to me as if it’s the first time I’ve ever received and he’s ever given me flowers. He does all that because he loves me…and he tenderly cares for my heart. He shows me in lots of ways….and he sends me flowers on a Friday reminding me that he loves me…and spring is on its way.  And I know both very, very well.

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