I pushed my chair back from my desk and shuffled out of my office to unlock the garage door. I wanted to help out as I figured my husband’s hands would be full. He had been out running errands with LittleBrother; I imagined he had bags in his hands and it’s never easy to unlock the door while telling the kid to be patient and pushing past the dog who just wants to love you love you love you.
I opened the door and in they walked.
LittleBrother held up an obvious shaped package wrapped in green tissue paper.
“These are for you, Mommy!”
I reached down and took the package from his hands. “Well, what are these?”
He went to take off his shoes in the mudroom. “We got them at the flower shop.”
My husband planted a kiss on my lips and went about getting things out of the car.
I gently pulled apart the stapled green tissue paper. Red roses greeted me and I smiled. I found the scissors and trimmed them, diagonally. I found one of my favorite vases for roses; it’s just the right height. I slipped the flowers into the vase and pulled them back out. I trimmed another inch off so they would sit just right. I filled the vase with water and set my flowers down in, moving this rose here and that rose there. I smiled and took a big whiff.
Normally, I place any flowers I get on the dining room table so that all who walk from the living room into the dining room and kitchen will see their beautiful display. I began walking toward the table when I paused, turned around, and walked back to my office.
This work week was quite busy. Longer hours and big deadlines meant that I spent a lot of time at my desk. I moved my planner and set my pile of papers that needed to be addressed off to the side, making room for the roses. I settled the vase into a corner next to the tissue box and stood back. I nodded to myself.
All week as I worked, I occasionally looked up and smiled. I felt loved. I felt remembered. I felt honored. I felt like the work I was doing and the hours I was putting in “away” from my family, if only just down the hall, were worth it because I felt respected in the work I do for my family — which includes my job and the laundry and the menu planning and the reading of books and the tickling and the disciplining and the reminders to brush teeth and the dog walking and the boo-boo kissing.
The week didn’t start out particularly well. I thought it was doomed from the start. But one little thoughtful action, something I would have said wouldn’t have mattered to me, made a difference in my week.
I am loved. And that makes all the difference.