The first time was early in our marriage. We were living in St. Louis at the time, and LBeau was on his way home from work at Missouri-Pacific Railroad. A street vendor was selling roses for 50 cents a dozen. On an impulse, he bought some.
Since that time, I have given birth to three children and had too many birthdays to count, but no more flowers. My friend Glenda is also married to an engineer, and we have often shared stories about no gifts and no flowers. At least she has daughters who were sometimes dispatched to “buy something for Mom for her birthday.” I have three boys. Enough said.
Needless to say, I was shocked when LBeau appeared bright and early Monday morning, my 65th birthday, with a dozen red roses and a card. As my oldest son, Hunter, said, “When you don’t expect much, the least little thing can make your day.”
