As long as I’m in the thick of talking about my book, I might as well share my own stories of flower consumption. This one happened over the weekend–not to me, but to my husband.
He left town for a family funeral–not Grandma, who I mentioned earlier, in case you’re worried–but another elderly relative. I couldn’t go, but I asked him to please bring flowers from both of us.
So on the way to the funeral, he stopped at a little florist that just happened to be on the way. He said that I would not have approved of the selection or the quality, although in my defense I’m actually not as much of a flower snob as you might think. (So don’t hesitate to send me flowers!)
Anyway, his best option was a $40 arrangement of red roses, eucalyptus, baby’s breath, etc. that was already made up and in the cooler. He grabbed it and left. He was right about the quality–by the end of the day, the flowers had bent right over at the neck. He didn’t even get 8 hours out of them.
If we had sent those flowers from out of town, and heard later that they’d wilted within the day, we would have been furious and all the more frustrated at having to spend our time calling the florist to complain. After all, it’s a funeral. Who wants more grief at a time like that?
But guess what? The whole experience was worthwhile anyway. Why? Because when Scott handed the roses to his great-aunt–it was her 90 year-old husband’s funeral he was attending– she looked at those flowers and said, "Red roses! That’s what he would have gotten me."
And that’s why I keep sending flowers, even when they wilt.