This Fish Needs A Bicycle

heard

From the office, I went to the florist at Brattle Square. I handed the gruff man my fifty dollars and said, “Something bright and elegant. It’s for the hostess.” I wasn’t sure he heard me, the way he turned away so quickly. I didn’t watch him work; I was lost in orchids and others flowers whose names I have yet to discover. And when the man came back, he handed me a hastily wrapped bouquet that was, for lack of a better word, breathtaking.

“You didn’t think I was listening to you, did ya?”
“You must have been. These are perfect.”
“I always listen.” He said and winked. “You have a happy holiday, honey.”

On the bus, the 2 ½ foot bundle attracted a lot of attention -- they practically needed their own seat. The man next to me smiled when he got up to leave.

“Somebody really loves you,” he said, gesturing to the flowers.
“I hope so,” I laughed. “But these aren’t for me.”

At home, I removed the shelves from the refrigerator to accommodate the flowers (I didn’t want to risk them wilting). I shed the workday wear, dropping articles of clothing all the way from my bedroom to the bathroom (roommate was at work, this was perfectly safe), where I washed my face and got ready for a really great Christmas Eve nap. I was back in my room, decked out in the softest pink pajamas known to man, when I heard the door. Up I got, gathering my strewn clothing on the way and when I opened the door (arms laden with tights, mini skirt and bulky sweater) I was surprised to see a flower delivery man. I smiled. This man must have the best job, I thought. Look at me, grinning like a fool and all he has to say is, “I have a delivery for H.”

“That’s me!” I said.

A girl who likes to savor surprises might have ventured a guess as to the sender before tearing open the card. Clearly, that girl is not me. And maybe I already knew who sent them. Written on the card, almost a poem, the fitting message read:

No Swiss Army Knife
But nonetheless
Happy Holidays

And I smiled. Sometimes, you don’t need a Swiss Army Knife. Sometimes, all you need is to be heard.

Merry Christmas.

And thank you for listening.

Posted by This Fish at December 25, 2003 12:17 AM