Every Saturday when my husband goes shopping, he comes home with flowers, and today was no exception. This morning he presented one bunch of purple tulips to me and one bunch of orange tulips to our four-month-old daughter. I love that she will grow up feeling loved and special as she sees her dad pick out flowers for his girls, and I also love that she’ll see it’s not just mom’s job to go grocery shopping.
As I was cutting and preparing the flowers, two of the stems broke, leaving them too short to include in the arrangement. I envy these adorable bud vases that my mom has, but I don’t have anything like that. I thought my tulip shaped juice glasses would be cute, but alas, even they were too big. I couldn’t bring myself to toss the sweet little buds; when I was little, I felt genuinely sad when I saw anything alone- I would bring the lone roly poly across the yard to his friends and ensure all of my stuffed animals had a partner to sit with in my room. This childhood sentiment (or compulsion) has stuck with me, which is why I felt for the poor little stems.