Hearts' Day

Off to the flower district yet again to do some favors for people. Lovette (dry laugh).

I went there with three friends before and got so intense in finding the perfect bunch of liliums for a friend's girl that I forgot myself and asked the flowersellers there (the men) to help me find the foliage for my liliums. "Foliage". In the flower market. Smart. Sometimes I get so into it I forget to use the vernacular.

We made several trips to the flower market that week and then returned a few weeks thereafter for "special requests": anniversary, birthday, make-up-flowers, what-have-yous. I was all for the trip with my friends, who just followed me around as I haggled and wheedled my way into the Princess Irene tulip freezer. I liked visiting each and every supplier and comparing the wraps and ribbons. I'm all for unconventional arrangements: mixing goldenrod tulips with dark red berries, in lieu of grass (although no one has consented to that idea yet).

I've done orange Royal lilies with pink gerbera daisies, dark pink snapdragons, and lemon leaves. The requests involve the usual blooms: roses, a few tulips, mums. Twice, liliums were requested, but usually, people stick to roses, which is the Hearts' Day staple. I have yet to encounter someone who knows and would ask for Japanese irises with reticulatas. And when someone requests roses with flat ferns, I'd shake my head and make them see reason.

For one friend's bouquet, I had three liliums with carnations and accented the bouquet with Silver Dollar eucalyptus. They say eucalyptus has an aromatherapeutic effect. I wouldn't know. I've only held the bouquet for an hour or so, while holding other bouquets as well in the backseat.

The flower market also has the usual ferns and baby's breath available. Surprisingly, I saw some Japonicas once. But they don't have Magnolia Leaves, which I really like because although they, at first, look like the normal big green leaves, a day or two thereafter, they turn into this beautiful golden orange color, which reminds you of autumn, my favorite season. It would be nice to get a bouquet yellow or peach roses or tulips accented with gold-tipped pink carnations and Magnolia Leaves. (Would it be too pathetic to send one's self an anonymous bouquet of that sort?)

There was this other time when a friend of a friend needed to surprise his girl. This friend of a friend was in the province so he needed someone in the metropolis (where his girl was at that time) to find some nice mums and make his girl a sweet note, nevermind the fact that he wouldn't be able to sign his name on the note itself. Hey, the bouquet was pretty refreshing. And the note (fine, the poem) was smartly done, if I could say so myself. Twas worth the damned trip. I only wish I could have mixed yellow roses and white lilies, as well as wisteria (which is rarely available in the flower market) or Holly's ferns with those reddish-orange Italian mums. But, of course, there's the friend of a friend's budget to be respected. *sigh*

There was also a similar instance when a boyfriend of a good friend called me to ask if I could get his girlfriend, who was my thesis partner at that time, an ordinary bouquet of a dozen pink and red roses and a breakfast treat. Incidentally, the guy was in the States so he couldn't buy the items himself. And the girl was working at a call center (while we were still in college). Her "coffeebreak" was at 7:00 to 7:30am. I was a late sleeper and, thus, I tend to wake up really late, too.

Cursing time and friendship to oblivion (but not really meaning every word since I was pretty hyped about the surprise factor - I love sweet gestures and thoughtfulness), I woke up at 4:00am and headed to the flower market an hour thereafter, got a bunch of roses, arranged them and grabbed a bunch of balloons (cheesy, I know). I went to Starbucks (sorry! I was rushing and I didn't want to buy McDonald's stuff!), grabbed a non-fat extra hot Caramel Macchiatto, a whole wheat sandwich (I couldn't remember exactly what was in it), and a slice of cake. I rushed to Ortigas, smiled at the guard, ran into the building, went up to the 34th floor, to her desk, and gave my friend a big, big smile while holding her boyfriend's treats. She was so happy.

But, of course, there were times when I would just order something from the flower shop. I gave someone's aunt Hydrangea plants (yes, complete with the pot and the soil) once. She loved them so I guess potted plants, which you just grab from the flower shop, work, as well.

So it doesn't matter if you'd have to wake up early or if you have to brave the traffic on the way to the flower market and get lost while delivering those cheesy bouquets. It doesn't matter if you just buy and prepare the flowers (as opposed to receiving them for the most part). When you see the reaction of the girls, their wide-eyed smiles, and when you hear their squeals of delight (as well as the oohs and aahs of the people around them when they get their gifts), you'd also be happy in spite of yourself. You'd realize that even if the world is filled with hate and anger and poverty, there'd still be that one day in the year (at least one day, for that matter) when most people will strive to be thoughtful and sweet for that one special person. On that one special day. And you're happy since they're happy. On that one special day.

Well, at least you're supposed to be happy in spite of yourself. And, yeah, at least it's not supposed to matter. Supposedly. But it does, doesn't it? And you ask yourself, "Wait a minute. Why do I have to be the flower arranger?"

But you only get a big smile from the girl holding the big bouquet of flowers. Your flowers (or at least they were yours while you were still arranging them in time for delivery.)