Ever since I have been old enough to receive flowers, I have had a problem. Throwing them away is always a sad day for me.

When I was about 19, Larry first sent me roses…I kept them in my room, in the vase, (dead and dry) for months. My Mother accused me of acting like an old Victorian lady, hoarding flowers from a beau. I did not know what she meant then, but I do now. I am a flower hoarder.

This past week, each morning, (after surgery), when I would slowly get up and move around, the flowers were here to greet me in their own way. I adore flowers and what they mean. They have been part of my recovery. (and encouraged me to get better in their own special way.)

It has been a week and a half since my surgery. The amazing flower arrangements that were sent to me last week are slowly fading and getting ready to say good bye. I always dread this time….

Fact: I carry the flowers around the house as I go from room to room. It is almost like having a friend right beside you during a difficult time.

Never underestimate the power of flowers.

Love you beyond the moon.

Me