When I got home from work, a box from ProFlowers was waiting for me. I didn’t know who it could possibly be from. I tried opening it from the bottom, which caused the vase to slide out. I turned it around and tried opening it from the top. When I glimpsed the tops of the flowers, I was suddenly hit with one of my earliest memories with uncommon clarity. I was three years old, very sick with a high fever, and my Dad brought me flowers in a vase when he came home from work. I can remember waking up after sleeping for hours, feverish, light as air, and there was a small delicate vase with flowers. I kept the vase for years but somewhere over time it disappeared. I still remember the feel of the small heavy vase and a few small pottery roses the size of pencil erasers glued to the vase.
I believe that was the only time he got me flowers, so until I had the memory just then, it didn’t occur to me that it might be from him. I finally figured out that it was a lot easier to open the box along the side, which was also where the note was, congratulating me on completing my first week of work. The flowers were from my Dad. Thanks Dad.. they’re beautiful and they’re in a perfect vase heavy enough that Casper can’t knock it over!
Mar 2nd 2006Family & the Past