there was a man in costco today.
i noticed him because he was carrying a bouquet of
bright pink flowers.
he looked like he was in a big hurry.
he swiftly made his way through the check out.
his eyes were wide and he quickly passed the bouquet from hand to hand,
juggling it with his wallet.
i watched him as i slowly moved through my line.
i even forgot to pay attention to what was before me.
the flowers were absolutely beautiful, yes.
but him - the man carrying them - that was the thing i was interested in.
he hastily headed for the exit - pushing past people and practically breaking out
into a jog.
i wondered who the individual was going to be on the receiving end.
i wondered if she had a name -
what her relationship was to him.
in my mind, i came up with two versions:
he loved a girl and today was a day that just called for flowers.
a bouquet of roses, especially.
he was being a smart man. ;)
someone had just been born.
he needed to be there and roses were the perfect arrival gift.
i'm probably wrong with my assumptions, but i'd like to think that
everyone around me is living some version of life that is worth writing about or admiring.
i sometimes even envision a pen and paper above everyone's head - writing some story.
and then i wonder if anyone ever looks at me and wonders about my story.
maybe they do, maybe they don't.
anyhow, that bouquet of roses was beautiful.
and i still can't help but wonder what happened when he handed them to whomever he was in a great hurry to see.