Okay. It’s been a while. I’ve been dealing with a nasty case of depression, but I think I’m back…or at least mostly back. Anyway, welcome to week 19 of the Marketing for Romance Writers 52-Week Blog Challenge, most of which I’ve missed so far this year. This week’s prompt is My Most Romantic Memory, which is tougher for me than you might expect.
The sad fact is, I haven’t experienced many romantic moments in my life. I was married for a short five yeas back when I was very young, and I’ve been single ever since. I’ve been in two long-term relationships since then, both abusive, and since I walked away from the last one, I’ve been…well, not interested.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still have a romantic streak. I do. I still believe in love, just maybe not for me. But I watch Younger Daughter and her husband together and I think, “Yeah…I could be in a relationship if I had one like that.” But guys like my son-in-law don’t come along every day.
But I do have a few romantic memories, and I’m going to share the very first one that popped into my head when I read this week’s prompt. It happened years and years ago, while I was married to my husband. We met on a blind date arranged by his aunt and uncle, who were my religious advisers at church. Uncle Dave was also my boss, or one of them, at the family floral business. His grandparents were the business owners and the big bosses.
When we started dating, his grandma sent a corsage with him for every date. Going to a movie? He brought a corsage. A football game? A corsage. Dinner out? A corsage. At one point, I had 5 or 6 in my fridge at the same time. The first one he brought was sweet, but honestly a bit embarrassing. Girls my age (I think I was 17 at the time) didn’t wear grandma corsages while eating pizza. And because I knew that Grandma sent them and he didn’t have to pay for them, I was pretty unimpressed by them and didn’t consider them particularly romantic.
Our wedding wasn’t exactly romantic, either. It was a small affair that took place in my grandparents’ living room. We had chosen not to get married in the way his parents thought we should (the acceptable way in our religion), and the whole thing became an ugly ordeal. It definitely wasn’t romantic or a celebration of our union. Not even close.
After we were married, red roses arrived like clockwork on my birthday, Mother’s Day, and our anniversary after we got married. It was an easy, free gift for him, and it meant next to nothing since I knew that Grandma probably arranged the whole thing.
When yellow roses arrived on occasion, that meant something He knew they were my favorite, so that meant they were actually from him.
The most romantic memory I have, however, happened one day when we were both at work. The family business was not only a florist, but they also had a sizable nursery department where we sold trees and bedding plants and all sorts of outdoor lawn/garden items.
He was out with some customers in the fruit tree area. I was at my station at the cash register. He came back inside holding a little branch he’d broken off a blossoming cherry tree and handed it to me saying, “I saw this and thought of you.” Those flowers meant more to me than any other gift he ever gave me. It was the single most romantic moment in my life.
It really was the thought that counted. Just thinking about that moment still brings a smile to my lips and makes my heart all worm and fuzzy.
This is a blog hop, so make sure you check out the posts by the other participating writers. Their links are below!
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