Late To Bed, Late to Wake, & Late to Bloom

Day 3: Wake up early and do something.

I’ve spent the better part of my life missing life before 8AM. I imagine my theory behind this was to see what exactly I am missing.

I set my alarm for 5:30 in the newly daylight savings morning.

With bleary eyes and a dazed mind, I dismissed this notion for another day. Moving on.

Revised Day 3: Give someone flowers.

Although I didn’t know what my objective would be exactly, upon discovering my approach, I suppose I just wanted to see someone unexpected, unexpectedly see me and smile.

I sat in a dark movie theater in the middle of the day. I wasn’t thinking about missing work to catch a flick with some friends. I was pondering how to get flowers out and who to get them out to.

Even though the obvious seemed to phone in an order to send someone some flowers, I just couldn't relive yesterday’s debacle of chasing down an address. I finally understand the never-ending bin of floral covered address books in Target’s one dollar section.

I contemplated purchasing a bouquet at the local flower shop, yet as the credits rolled I stumbled onto a concept I had given little thought to previously.

Why don’t I just buy the flowers, procure a vase, and arrange them myself? I mean, flowers are such happy things and I wasn’t going to keep them, so I might as well arrange away while basking in the scent and sight of one of nature’s better rainbows.

There she was. A beautifully stuffed, medium sized, glass vase erupting in white and plum garden flowers.

The kitchen appeared to be the workshop of some mad botanist. There were fraying amethyst ribbon scraps scattered among a sea of green leaves, stems, and stalks blanketing the table, floor, and sink.

I loved it. I didn’t want to give up such a cheery creation. Eleanore Roosevelt once geniusly stated, "where flowers bloom, so does hope."

Nonetheless, the project had already satisfied its merry purpose in my life and was meant to do the same for another.

After deciding against having a friend act as the delivery man or doorbell ditching anonymously, all I was left to do was decide upon a recipient. This was the hard part.

What did I want? What did I expect?

Someone unforeseen. Someone unexpecting me. And in that moment, the most unpredicted name popped into my head.

To know me is to know my best thoughts are the foreign thoughts of my mind. I can only describe it as an uploaded outsider in a carefully catalogued domain. One of these things is not like the others. It’s as glaring as a Picasso in a sea of Monets.

Delivery proved more difficult than I anticipated. Having been two years since I had visited my beneficiary, finding the home was arduous. Squinted eyes, small street markers, signed, sealed, and delivered the way I wanted them to be... I was glowing.

Still do you know what the happiest part of the rest of the day was? An hour more of sunny daylight and every time my fingers brushed my face, the smell of freshly cut flora reminded me spring is just around the corner.