Flower shop vignette

Save something for yourself

One lovely day this past week, with a few minutes to spare between appointments, I walked into a flower shop. The store has wide open glass doors this time of year, with gorgeous displays inside and out. Those interested in flowers can pick and choose among the blooms to make their own bouquets, or purchase one already fabricated by the store’s florists. It would be too long before I returned home for it to have made sense for me to purchase cut flowers, but I found a few succulents to add to a planter that has become dominated by one species.

Ahead of me in line was a well-dressed woman who had arrayed three bouquets on the counter. They were all small and beautifully done, in simple square glass vases. One of the employees behind the counter gestured to me, my hands being full of little succulents suggesting that I was ready to check out. This caused the well-dressed woman to look back at me and ask my opinion.

“Which of these do you like?” she asked, gesturing at her array of three bouquets.

“They’re all beautiful,” I said. It was true. “Is there an occasion?”

“House guests,” she said. “I want to put a bouquet in their room.” I smiled at her.

“What a lovely gesture,” I said. “How long are they staying? Perhaps you will be able to enjoy the bouquet as well once they are gone?”

“Through the fourth of July,” she said. “The flowers will likely be faded by the time they leave.” I pointed to the one I liked the best, at least on that day and at that time. It had a cacophany of textures, but a slightly more muted palette than the others. I find that my aesthetics change with the season, and my mood; even with the amount of cloud cover, and sometimes, with what other things are going on in the world. On other days I might like a shock of yellow or crimson in among the paler blooms. Not so on this day.

“You don’t like these others?” she asked.

“I do. I just like this one the best. But you’re not buying it for me.” I paused, then repeated, “they are all beautiful.” Two employees behind the counter, who had been brought in on the decision making before I showed up, watched in silence. They were, perhaps, ever so slightly impatient. She remained undecided.

The well dressed woman began walking to the back of the store, beckoning me to follow her.

“How about this one?” she asked, pointing to a larger bouquet in the refrigerated case that lined the back wall of the small shop. This one was even more gorgeous than the others, but also quite a bit more expensive.

“That one is glorious,” I acknowledged.

“It is, isn’t it,” she sighed, looking at the flowers with some longing. It seemed to me that she wanted an excuse to splurge on the larger, more riotous bouquet.

“Do you love these houseguests dearly?” I asked her.

“Oh no,” she said. She spoke without hesitation, or elaboration. It didn’t seem that she resented the houseguests, or didn’t enjoy their company. She just knew, and was willing to share, that she did not love them deeply. I laughed.

She took the fourth bouquet from the case and brought it to the counter to sit with the others in contention. Four bouquets, all of which were beautiful on their own, but some of which seemed generic, or even garish, when in direct comparison with the others. She remained unsure.

“It seems to me,” I offered, in a way that I never would have had I not been invited into the decision making directly, “that given that you are choosing to do something beautiful and unexpected for houseguests whom you do not in fact love dearly, you can spend a bit less here, and save something for yourself.”

I walked away with a little box of four succulents, not knowing what decision she finally made. But I do think all of us might consider this: save something for yourself.