John walked into the shop nervously. He wasn’t familiar with flowers and he didn’t know what she would like. He’d known her for as long as he could remember, but never once in those memories had she mentioned her favorite flower to him.
    The shop smelled sweet, almost sugary, and had a soft feel, like the flower petals that filled it. John looked at the arrangements and the individual flowers sticking out of black buckets, but kept his hands stiffly at his side, carefully avoiding any contact.
    “May I help you?” a voice startled John. “We have some lovely roses, only nine dollars a dozen today, for that special lady.”
    John turned around. “I don’t know if she would like roses,” he said thoughtfully. “I really don’t know what she would like. I haven’t seen her for three years, you know.”
    The clerk smiled. “In that case, you may need more than a bouquet,” he suggested. “We have excellent vases.”
    John nodded. She was that special to him, and he felt guilty for not having visited her. “I think you’re right,” he replied. “May I see some? I think I might know it if I see it.”
    The clerk led John to a counter where there were extravagant glass vases filled with exotic purple and orange flowers and strange striped leaves. “Do you see any that interest you?”
    “No, I don’t think so. Have you got something simple, but really nice?”
    “Well, over here we have some nice arrangements of pink, white, and red carnations. People usually by them for their mothers and the like, but if you think she’ll like them...”
    That made John decide. “I’ll take that one,” he said, pointing.

    John arrived at the door of the simple cottage carefully cradling the case, and the flowers tickled his face and arms. There was no garden in the yard, but the yard would have been crowded if there was. The door opened and there was an old woman, beautiful in her own right, John thought. Her gray hair was neatly pulled back and she wore a simple, old-fashioned dress. “Mom,” John said happily, “you look great.”
    “John, it’s so nice to see you. It’s been so long,” the woman replied.
    “Mom, I didn’t know what your favorite flower was, so I just got you these. I hope you like them.”
    The woman took the vase with a grateful, wrinkled smile, trembling with what John hoped was joy. “John, these are my favorite flowers now,” she said warmly.