Of Hasty Conclusions and the Gift of Flowers

Of Hasty Conclusions and The Gift of Flowers

           I was in such a bad mood on that day, for a number of reasons, some serious, some just plain foolish. I should have kept my sarcasm and nasty attitude to myself, where they belonged. But no, I had to let all the nastiness spill out. I even shocked myself somewhat, with what I said, which is saying something. If I had heard someone else saying the words that burst out of my mouth, I would most probably have thought that they had no true appreciation for their marital partner, and no ability to put themselves in the other person’s situation.

           Poor Jean has always been a very sensitive person, and was definitely hurt by what I said, and the spirit in which it was said. There was no stepping back to our ‘normal’ at that point. We both left the living room silently, and did not speak to each other for hours, and even then it was in brusque sentences of only a few words: “Going to the washroom?” “No it’s yours.”

           We have not spoken much more than that for the last few days.  Staring glances followed by looking down at the floor were replacing words as forms of communication.  I know that I have to be the one to change things back to the way they were, as it was my fault that we are in this sad situation. That’s why I am going right now to buy some flowers for Jean. They will speak louder than my mere words can, as I insulted Jean concerning thinking that giving such a gift would make everything better between us. This gift would show that we both agreed on the meaningfulness of the gift of flowers as a means of reconciliation.

           There is a flower shop in town that I have gone to several times before, to buy flowers for my grandmother on her birthdays.  She is 92, so I have been to this shop quite a few times. The woman that runs that place is a good person to talk to. She genuinely listens, and not just to promote sales.

           She greeted me with a big smile, and the words, “So a few days ago it was Jean, and now it is you. Is there big trouble on the home front with you two?”

           I felt that I had to be honest with her. “Yes there is. First Jean said something heard on a television situation comedy that we usually both watch, but which I missed that night because of having to work late, as I sometimes have to do. I felt that the words insulted me, not knowing that Jean was just repeating a line that was on the show, not intending it to be a criticism of me and my clothing choices. If Jean had presented the context first, we could have both laughed together about the remark. I didn’t let Jean explain afterwards. The damage was done. I found out about the source later - too much later- from a friend to whom I was complaining about what Jean had said.”

           “The next day, to apologize for what was said the night before, Jean came here to your establishment and bought some of your beautiful orchids. That should have worked, as it had in the past, but it did not this time. I let loose with a brutal, blunt force tirade. I have to say that I deliberately hurt Jean with what I said. There was nothing accidental or innocent about my words. I was cruel.

           I guess that you don’t have any flowers or combination thereof that are specially grown for inducing forgiveness.”

           She replied with “all flowers have such power if given with obvious love.”

           “You would say that.” 

           “What flowers are naturally blue? Jean has a fondness for blue flowers, as I saw when blue orchids were handed over to me a few days ago, only to be insulted, thrown on the floor and stomped on, followed by my saying ‘I wish that these flowers were you, for the way that you insulted me the other day’.”

           “Well the blue flowers that I have in stock are blue orchids (as you know), hibiscus, delphinium and iris. I will arrange them all together to show them off in their best calming blue.”

           “Thank you. I really hope that this works. I cannot stand feeling the emotional distance that now separates us.”

           She arranged the flowers slowly but beautifully, turning their mixture into a work of art. Blue flowers had not been especially attractive to me before, but this bouquet definitely was. If any flower arrangement could bring my loving Jean back to me, it might just be this one.

           I walked home, holding the bunch of flowers up high at face level like they were some kind of flag of peace.  In a way they were.  I received a few stares along the way. Words were almost spoken, but the intense look on my face probably kept the passers-by quiet. When I arrived home, I saw that Jean’s car was parked in the driveway..  I walked up the steps slowly, prolonging the time when the worst might possibly happen.

           I felt like I was a kind of intruder, that I should maybe have knocked on the door, hoping that Jean would answer it by welcoming me in. Instead, of course, I opened the door somewhat awkwardly, using only one hand. I felt that it would be bad luck if I put the flowers down on the chair by the front door. They should remain held high.

           When I opened the door, Jean was standing and facing me, perhaps having seen me approaching the house. There was a cautious silence seeping from both of us.  Then I coughed to clear my throat, and spoke first, as was my role in this critical encounter:

           “Bonjour, Jean, I have some pretty fleurs for you. I hope that they serve as a form of apologie for my lack of understanding a few days ago, mon amour. Pardonne-moi, mon cheri. I want us to be back where we were before I opened my big mouth and spewed out poison.”

           I rarely spoke to him in his native French, but I thought that the situation required it.

I could see in his eyes, and feel in his embrace to follow that I was forgiven. Jumping to hasty conclusions is so wrong.