Cut Flowers

It was the biggest of big box stores.  People scurried around like ants from a kicked-over anthill. There is a certain urgency when you search for stuff in bulk.  The man headed down the aisle and toward the floral department.  He was looking for some cut flowers for his wife.  It was his Friday afternoon mission.

“Hey buddy, you in the dog house?” the man in the Talledega T-shirt and Alabama ball cap snickered.  The man holding the flowers looked at him and just said, “Worse.”  The T-shirt man laughed and walked toward the food section in search of a 50-gallon drum of syrup and joked, “Good luck with that, buddy!”

He took the flowers up to the front and the cashier who smiled and said, “You’re a good man. That’s how you take care of a woman.  Yup — buy her flowers just because.”  The man handed her his debit card and said, “Yes, I am taking care of my wife. And I’m buying them ‘just because.'” The lady smiled and handed him his receipt. “Good luck with that!”

He handed the man with the marker his receipt and then headed to his car. He carefully laid the flowers on the front seat and started it.  He drove to where he always drove on a Friday afternoon.

He parked his car on the side of the road, grabbed the flowers and walked out into the field.  The wind  blew across the grass and whispered through the pines. He stopped, kneeled and carefully placed them on his wife’s grave.  “I met a man who thought I bought these flowers because I was in the dog house. I wish I was. I really do. Where I am is much worse. And then I met a lady who thought I was trying to take care of my wife. Well, in a way, I am. But I wish I had done a better job of  taking care of you before the cancer.  I miss you.  And I love you. I’ll see you next week.”

The husband understood how precious life was and that like cut flowers, it didn’t last forever.  He picked up the old flowers off his wife’s grave and walked back to his waiting car. Just like he did every Friday.