I was home alone tonight, tired and a bit blue when the doorbell rang. It was 9:30 and I was not expecting anyone. I was not inclined to open at this hour but checked through the peephole in case it was one of my kids. No kid, this was a bald man holding a bouquet of flowers. It could have been a killer who knew my weakness for flowers…and I could be dead by now, lucky for me it wasn’t as I opened the door to retrieve the offering. It was a local florist delivery guy.
The flowers were under a clear cellophane : seventeen beautiful long stemmed red roses and one white one. I looked for an envelope, there was none but a small card was stapled to the plastic. It was hand written and said From Ive (or did it say Joe?) to Ive. This is mysterious because it means the caller spoke english and must have pronounced my name in English but the florist must have been french to write it out that way.
In french Eve is pronounced “Ehv” but in english it is pronounced “Heeev”. And when a french person wants to write out that Heev sound they will write it Ive.
Who could it be? Obviously I did not send myself flowers. I am pretty sure it is a man because of the single white rose…this is a message…or an image…I am not sure which. It is not my birthday. P my faithful flower sender has given up on me and has not sent me flowers in months so I doubt it is him. K and R have never sent flowers I doubt they would start now. O is obesssed with the world cup this weekend he would not think of flowers. S keeps losing my address he would have asked me for it first. J has no reason to do this although he is a suprising man…This leaves G…but he speaks french….Maybe the florist is a foreigner and does not speak french…nor much of english…the mystery remains…
I will try to find out who my secret admirer is tomorrow…