He brought me flowers.
A huge bouquet of red carnations, brightening up my kitchen on these grey days.
I told Shannon back when we were dating a secret: most (most, not all, I know) girls would rather receive flowers from the grocery store frequently than flowers from a florist twice a year. I'm one of those girls. I hate to spend too much money on flowers because let's face it: they die. They don't last, and if anyone is going to spend $100 on something material, well, in my opinion, it should last more than a week. So Shannon has obliged me with lots and lots of reasonably priced bouquets of flowers over the years.
He's always on the quest for the perfect bouquet, it seems. He'll buy me roses and be disappointed when they die within a week, and buy me daisies or mums another time and be thrilled when they last. Yesterday's bouquet satisfied him completely: he keeps remarking that he "did better" this time than last time. "Well," I told him. "Carnations are a heartier flower. They aren't as fragile as roses or lilies. They last longer than those."
And seeing the understanding dawn over his face I knew one thing:
I'm going to be getting a lot of carnations in the future.
But you know what? I won't mind in the slightest. Flowers are flowers, and when they come from my guy as a surprise delivered to me while I'm up to my elbows in dinner prep or surrounded by every toy we own with a 14-month old running circles around me, they brighten up my day and bring a smile to my face, whether they cost him $5 or $100.