Timing
It didn't matter that he was far away. He still managed to send flowers, from the deserts of Qatar, for Valentine's Day.
The dozen red roses arrived nestled in green leaves and layers of textured black wrapping. It had no note, but a two-stanza poem that he had written specially for me also arrived in my inbox a few days before.
For a man who acknowledges that he has very bad timing, he is now seriously working on it. I think he's doing just fine. I am Chief Beneficiary of all his efforts at love and affection, and because he loves me this much, his timing will thus always be perfect for me.
Happy Valentine's Day, my love.
[Other previous posts about J: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10]
The dozen red roses arrived nestled in green leaves and layers of textured black wrapping. It had no note, but a two-stanza poem that he had written specially for me also arrived in my inbox a few days before.
For a man who acknowledges that he has very bad timing, he is now seriously working on it. I think he's doing just fine. I am Chief Beneficiary of all his efforts at love and affection, and because he loves me this much, his timing will thus always be perfect for me.
Happy Valentine's Day, my love.
[Other previous posts about J: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10]
posted by Maryanne Moll | 3:10 PM
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