I don’t really like flowers.
I think I should like flowers, because that’s what girls are supposed to do, but I can’t seem to care about them the way I should. My husband, sweet man who never needs me to be something I’m not and loves me for who I am in all my lack of gender stereotypes, saw me wilting last week, up to my one-whiskered chin in book edits.
He drove out and came home with flowers. I was unimpressed, until I noticed they were fake, the little plastic and silk ones. I leaned forward in my stiff desk chair, curious. This just got interesting.
Each manufactured blossom was taped to a long Nerds Rope, a bouquet of blooming candy goodness. I fell in love with him a little harder, a little deeper, because while I don’t care much for flowers, I live for Nerds, and Nerds Rope is the Beyonce of the candy world.
Every day that I sit at my computer pounding out keystrokes, I chew happily on my Rainbow Nerds and remember the precious love of a man who makes bouquets out of my favorite candy. My appreciation for flowers is feeble, but my love for my husband is in full bloom.
Every week I see #fmfparty on Twitter and think those Five Minute Friday girls are so brave to write for five unedited minutes and hit publish. This evening I tried to weenie out like usual but couldn’t run away like I usually do, so I’m joining the fun. The prompt word was BLOOM, and this was my five-minute attempt at writing about it.