As the years passed, other occasions—birthdays,
awards, graduations—were marked with Dad's flowers. Those flowers symbolized
his pride, and my success. As my fortunes grew, my father's health became
worse, but his gifts of flowers continued until he died. I covered his coffin
with the largest, reddest roses I could find.
Often during the dozen years since, I felt an
urge to buy a big bunch to fill the living room, but I never did. I knew it
would not be the same.
Then one birthday, the doorbell rang. I was
feeling blue because I was alone. My husband and my two daughters were away. My
10-year-old son, Tommy, had run out earlier with a "see you later".
So I was surprised to see Tommy at the door. "Forgot my key," he
said. "Forgot your birthday too." He pulled a bunch of roses from
behind his back.
"Oh, Tommy," I cried. "I love
flowers!"
awards, graduations—were marked with Dad's flowers. Those flowers symbolized
his pride, and my success. As my fortunes grew, my father's health became
worse, but his gifts of flowers continued until he died. I covered his coffin
with the largest, reddest roses I could find.
Often during the dozen years since, I felt an
urge to buy a big bunch to fill the living room, but I never did. I knew it
would not be the same.
Then one birthday, the doorbell rang. I was
feeling blue because I was alone. My husband and my two daughters were away. My
10-year-old son, Tommy, had run out earlier with a "see you later".
So I was surprised to see Tommy at the door. "Forgot my key," he
said. "Forgot your birthday too." He pulled a bunch of roses from
behind his back.
"Oh, Tommy," I cried. "I love
flowers!"
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