Monday, November 19, 2012


He came to pick me up. This was right before we became engaged. He was driving His Plymouth, (the one I decided needed to be painted firemist blue). After He came to the door I assume that He waited for me to finish getting ready, (as this is what He remembers most about our pre-marriage dating, although, now I am usually ready before Him). Then we must have discussed where we were going. The point is He was not in any hurry.

We walked to His car and He opened the driver's-side door for me. Of course there was no center console in His car, and I slid in over to the middle of the bench seat (there was no seatbelt law either). Before He turned the ignition, He leaned across me and opened up the jockey-box. Reaching inside He retrieved a pink rose. It had a fully blossomed head. He cupped it in His hand and gave it to me. As I took it from Him I realized that it didn't have its stem attached. It crossed my mind to take it back in the house and put it in water, but I realized it wasn't going to live very long without its stem. I kissed Him and then held the head of the rose in my hands until we got to our destination.

I think about Him getting me that rose. His driveway was lined with rose bushes. I imagine Him going out to His car to come over. He sees the roses and decides to bring me one. He goes into the garage and retrieves the clippers. I can picture Him studying the rose bushes looking for the rose that is most fully bloomed and perfectly formed (I have seen Him do this many times in later years). He also searches for the one that has the most beautiful universal color. He then cups the rose with the stem between His first and middle finger, and clips it off right below where the blossom opens. It was a gift of spontaneity, but one that was measured and appraised. It was the sweetest and most innocent gift of love.

He picked me a flower...

one more reason I love Him.

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