Carrying Flowers

There is something about flowers, especially flowers in the dead of winter, that draws people.  It was my birthday, and I wanted a small arrangement for Mother.  It was the only way I could think of to tell her thank you for bearing me and raising me.  So, I stopped at the florist and ordered a small bouquet of pink and white carnations.  They smelled heavenly, and their color popped against the dark gray light of a rainy day.  It brightened my day just to see them, but what astonished me, was that just carrying the flowers brightened others' day as well.

I walked into the home, and the office workers smiled.  "Oh, flowers!"  I paused in the hallway to remove my coat and another visitor smiled and stopped and looked.  "Oh, how pretty!"  I made my way toward the main desk, the nurses stopped and looked and smiled.  The old man in the wheelchair managed a sideways grin and said," Oh, pretty flowers."  I pushed the code to enter the Alzheimer's unit and the lady who always sits at the door waiting to get out smiled and looked.  I found Mother and showed her the bouquet and told her the flowers were for her.  She smiled, and tried to eat them.  I reminded her to smell them.  She did and smiled.

I don't know if she will have any real appreciation of the flowers; probably not.  But they will brighten her room and the staff will enjoy them.  And just carrying the pink, fragrant flowers from the florist to Mother brightened the gray day for just a moment for many.