Someone gave you flowers.

I am 17 years old. The year is 1974. I am in my first semester of college. I live at home with my parents and younger brother in Diamond Bar, California. College is a 20-minute commute. I returned home one afternoon to find an arrangement of flowers sitting on the table in the entry hall. No one in our home had ever received flowers delivered by a florist! 

My mother must have heard my car, must have been waiting for me to arrive. She is standing in the entry hall with one of her I'm-going-make-sure-I-ruin-this-for-you looks on her face. I hesitate, struggling to gauge from which direction the attack will come.

"They're for you," she said flatly, with that hint of cruelty I could detect while seemingly indiscernible the rest of the world.

I was genuinely surprised. I wasn't dating anyone special. I couldn't imagine who had sent me flowers. I saw the florist's card on the plastic holder sticking up from amongst the arrangement. I could see my name handwritten on the envelope. Inside the envelope was the greeting of the person who had sent me the lovely flowers.

I tried to not show my excitement. I reached out slowly, trying to appear nonchalant, to collect take the envelope from the holder. Before my hand reached its destination, my mother quipped, "They're not from a boy. They're from your big sister welcoming you to the sorority."

What wickedness! Her hands had already held the card, her eyes had already read the words. I felt completely violated.

I looked at the card anyway, to see if my mother was lying. It was true, the flowers were from my big sister, a stern, repressed person with whom I had nothing in common. I had disliked her before; now I loathed her -- for sending me the flowers and providing my mother with an opportunity engage in her favorite activity, humiliating me.

I am 19 years old. It is April 1976. I am in my sophomore year at college and working weekdays at Fiddlers Three Restaurant during the lunch-time shift. I have just started dating the brother of one of the most popular waitresses. I had met him at the restaurant because he came in frequently to have lunch and to visit with his sister during her shift (he always sat in her section). 

The flowers arrived just before lunchtime. I was completely surprised. Along with the flowers he had sent a stuffed bear and a Hallmark card. I put the flowers and the bear on the counter where everyone could see them. When he came in later for lunch, he could see how happy the flowers had made me. It also made his sister jealous. She had been the primary apple of his eye until then, and now she had competition.

I believe I still have that card somewhere. I threw the bear away after our divorce.

I am in my late 30's. It is my first semester teaching English as a Second Language to adult immigrants. It is my birthday. The students have found out it is my birthday. I came into the classroom to find several bouquets of flowers on my desk, along with cards and a cake. The cards have hand-written notes to me in broken English, the students expressing how much they appreciate me and love me. I am touched by their kindness. Then several minutes of picture taking, all with the flowers in center frame.