Basket of Pretty is part of the Opalmine Publishing network and a place I have befriended on Facebook. They post something pretty often. Perhaps it is each weekday or just as the mood strikes. I don’t know for sure.

I went to their site and found my prompt for today’s post. I was having difficulty coming up with something to write about that didn’t have me spewing invective. I wanted something light and not the swirling masses of darkness I had percolating. So I thought of this space and opted to go with this as a beginning point.

Beautiful pink roses

Samantha sat in front of the window looking out over the hills falling away from the farmhouse she called home. She held a steaming cup of coffee cradled in both hands. Her eyes peered into the distance, hoping to see a trail of dust coming up the long drive.

A delivery truck had snaked its way to her door earlier in the afternoon. Some chipper young man, probably not more than a teenager really, stomped up to her front door and pounded too loudly. It irritated Samantha. The loud noise and the intrusion. She was busy pouting and didn’t want to be disturbed.

But she was too curious to not answer the door. Besides, the kid was pounding for the second time creating even more noise and further irritation. She went to the door and tried to plaster at least a fake smile on her face. It wasn’t working well.

She opened the door and there was a tall, gangly teenager holding a vase full of beautiful pink roses. His clumsy, large hands were partially crushing the pink ribbon tied at the narrow portion of the vase. His smile was real and his eyes were dancing.

“Somebody sure thinks a lot of you,” he said as he handed over the vase.

Samantha blinked rapidly and nearly dropped the heavy glass. Her smile turned real and she buried her face among the dozen blooms and inhaled. “They smell wonderful,” she said so low the kid was straining forward to hear her words.

“Well,” he said as he turned, “have a great day and enjoy your flowers.” He walked quickly back to his still running truck and hopped in. He slammed the door as he popped the gears into reverse and quickly drove out of Samantha’s life.

She stood in the door transfixed. She smelled the flowers again, breathing deeply and sighing out loud. She watched the retreated cloud of dust as the truck disappeared into the wide world out there. Quiet once again descended.

Samantha took the flowers into the house and gently shut the door. She looked around her tiny living room for a spot to set them down. The end table next to Dan’s easy chair was also just to the left of the window. She placed them there.

After setting them down, she took the card from the little plastic holder. She opened it and found written in a feminine hand. “Love always. Happy anniversary. Dan.”

She thought back the fifty-two years and remembered the strong, tall, young man Dan had been. He had been her one true love. The person she could always depend on. The man of her dreams. They had raised three sons and a daughter together. They had nine grandchildren and one great-granddaughter. They had run this farm and been successful for over fifty years.

She looked out of the window again and searched for the cloud of dust. She waited patiently for her daughter, Darcy, to drive back to the farm. She saw the fine trail of dust coming and set her coffee cup down.

Samantha didn’t know how the flowers were paid for. She didn’t understand how for the first time in fifty-two years she was getting flowers. Now, when everything was so bleak. She plucked one beautiful long-stemmed pink rose from the vase and went to the door.

Darcy hurried up to the door to help her mother to the car. She saw the pink rose and asked, “Where did you get that?”

“Your father sent it to me. I want to show him how beautiful they are.” Mother and daughter walked slowly to the car and Darcy drove to the cemetery so her bereft mother could visit her dad on this special day.

 

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