the flowers were merely a kind gesture and a weary man’s attempt to cling to what little romanticism remained between us. However, I had no idea that a folded note hidden in the bouquet would lead me to follow my spouse throughout town and into a secret I never would have imagined.
The marriage transforms after sixteen years.
Not in grandiose fashions. The shift is sluggish. the less frequent brushing motion of your hands. The way “Did you pack the kids’ lunch?” is used instead of “good morning” You cease to notice it, just as you cease to notice a wall clock until it stops.
You get over anticipating surprises. You ignore minor issues because you believe they are simply part of life. Until something unforeseen occurs. All of a sudden, you’re at a loss for what to do with it.
I therefore experienced a strange lump in my throat when my husband, Dan, began bringing flowers home every Friday. As if something I had long suppressed was emerging.
He brought tulips—pink ones—when he first entered. He kissed my forehead and exclaimed, “For my girl!” I chuckled and inquired as to if he was in trouble. As he relaxed his tie and smiled, he simply replied, “You deserve these, Ada.”
The children moaned and sounded like they were gagging. I smiled at the flowers in the vase for too long, and I rolled my eyes. The mere sight of them restored my sense of being seen. Wanted. And maybe adored.
It was easy. However, it had significance. Even a $5 bouquet can feel like a lifeline when you’re overburdened with work, expenses, and feeding everyone.
I thought for a moment that perhaps we were returning.
