I bought myself flowers sometime last week. It was on Leap Day Eve. It was a day when my heart grew a hundred times the size of golf balls. I think it's the first time I treated myself to a bouquet of blooms, that which isn't bought for someone else or for the prayer altar at home.
I purposefully picked pink. Because I had felt tickled pink. Well, not immediately. Stunned at first, then the color saturated my being as soon as the fortuitous event sunk in. I wouldn’t compare my heart to yellow golf balls, so pink flowers it was.
The late great Whitney Houston (God bless her Divine Diva soul) echoes my sentiments with uncanny accuracy in her 80’s song “How Will I Know.” But am I brave enough, bold enough, to really want to know?
I want to know too. Pretty flowers. By the way, what's the name of that flower that has prickly looking petals?
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