When we were first married IZ worked in downtown Seattle, just moments from Pike’s Place Market. On Fridays, he would swing by the market on his way home from work and bring me an armful of flowers.  Usually big bunches of dahlias, but sometimes sunflowers or wildflowers, anything that was in season. It’s such a fond memory.

We had this huge worktable in our kitchen and I would arrange flowers on it, while IZ would make dinner. It was a chance to catch up on his day. He worked a stressful job and I remember those moments of times of just being present. Listening and supporting and hoping for him, all the things he wanted to accomplish. And it wasn’t lost on me then, either, that in the midst of such turmoil at work, he always made time to bring me flowers.

We’ve grown up. And moved too many times. And these days, when I want flowers, I just go get them. The downside, I suppose, of working from home. He doesn’t have a flower stand to swing by on his way home for work.

So, it was a lovely moment this afternoon, when on our way home from his haircut he pulled over to my favorite flower stand and bought me a bouquet. His day, his week has been complicated and stressful and there’s not much I can do to remedy the problems he’s facing right now. But once again, he’s there with flowers reminding me again that the definition of love is putting the other first.

When he got back in the car, he leaned over and gave me a kiss, “Here you go, Friday Flowers.”