The other day I went to Walmart to buy a formula for my son. to be honest. It wasn't a good trip at first.
The traffic was annoying. The parking lot was fake. But what really made me feel bad was the process of picking up the baby formula itself.
I give to my wife's flowers every year, but I did not give her those daisies.
Previously, anyone could grab it off the shelf quickly. Now, yet another sign of the erosion of basic social trust, it is moved to the front of the store, where it is placed under the lock and key.
I'm in a bad mood
This has made simple errands too complicated. Certainly, taking someone to unlock the formula cabinet cost me just over 5 minutes, but it made me feel bad, but that's like 20.
It didn't help that I had to escort the formula to the checkout line. Thank you, shoplifter.
I was waiting to check out and head home, and I realized that the woman in front of me was buying flowers along with what appeared to be ingredients for a fun date night.
“Have you ever bought flowers for a man?” she asked the cashier.
The cashier replied, “No.”
“I buy my husband's flowers every year,” the woman said. “Men won't get flowers until the day they die.”
For everything for the first time
I saw her see my path. “I've never bought any flowers,” he said. The man behind me said the same thing.
The woman then asked the cashier to add two more bouquets to her tally. She turned to us, “I buy you flowers. I will give them to your wife and children, but in this way, at least you were given flowers before you died.”
Certainly, when I left, the woman found me and gave me a bouquet of daisies.
This is something she didn't know. I give to my wife's flowers every year, but I did not give her those daisies.
I gave them to another woman, a woman I think about every year around this time.
Visit a friend
She was my friend. Thirteen years ago this month, I lost her to suicide. I was the last person to text her. I was trying to help her through recent tragedy. In the end, my help was not enough to prevent the consequences I was afraid of.
She is buried near my house. I visit her every year around the anniversary of her death. I always leave her with a bouquet of flowers and a small horse figurine (she loved horses).
This year, my friend is getting two bouquets. I am grateful to the women lined up at Walmart. Her simple act of generosity freed me from my selfish misery – my Stimulation, my Impatience – by bringing my attention to my old dear friend. It's not a bad lesson on Valentine's Day.
