My 5 Ironic Minutes in the Flower Shop

I am poor from my vacation and excessive overspending, but I wanted to do right by a friend who I like very much and was very kind to me on my birthday and sent an enormous bouquet of flowers.

She's such a sweet person and just exudes warmth: She comes from a family known for their kindness and generosity. She kind of reminds me of Princess Diana in a way; someone who from the outside seems to have it all, but with an air of sadness around her. My friend is beautiful (probably one of the most beautiful women I've ever met in person - although I doubt that she knows she is), intelligent, and (probably) has all the material things that she could possibly ever want. I always feel that she is sad and I want to do things to make her happy. Sometimes I just get a feeling out of the blue that I should call her or cheer her up in some way - and I try to whenever I hear that little voice.

Anyhoo, so I went to my usual favorite flower shop, Ribbon Flowers, in Salmiya -- which isn't anything like Al Jarra or any of the larger, more expensive places in town -- but they do an outstanding job with arrangements and have been very nice to me over the years. On the way into the shop, there was a Kuwaiti young man (14-15) who walked in behind me and held the door for me. I went to the counter and my usual shop guy, Mohammed, wasn't there (on vacation) but the Kuwaiti owner was. I told him what I wanted, but then he turned to the young man in Arabic and asked how he could help him. He said that he was looking for a bouquet for his mother's birthday, but that the man should help me first.

I was totally impressed by this kid's manners. He reminded me of my nephew, Alex: Not only because Alex has great manners, but because it is the type of thing he would do for my sister for her birthday - buying her favorite flowers. It made me smile and feel all warm and fuzzy. (It also made me miss Alex - a LOT.)

So, I ordered my bouquet and was trying to explain to the shop guys the directions to my friend's house. I struggled to remember the words in Arabic (it was a long day - a 1 hour walk followed by 40 minutes of Hip Hop Abs and my mind is feeble) and the young man looked at me with surprise and said, "Oh! You are sending flowers to my mother!" and went on to explain the exact directions to his house!

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world...." (Casablanca quote, not Fall Out Boy lyric!)

Isn't that amazing? How many flower shops are there in Kuwait? What are the chances of being in that very shop at the same time as my friend's son?

When I told the shop guy about what flowers I wanted in the bouquet, the young man said, "Get purple. She loves purple."

I love this story. I just feel like it is some kind of a sign from God - but I don't know what it means. I told the young man how much I like his mother and how I had heard her talk about him. What a nice boy! How lucky she is to have a son like that. As thoughtful as he is, he is going to make someone a fine husband one day.

He, as a teenager, probably thought I was an ab-so-lute nutjob; smiling and carrying on the way I did, waving as I left; but it was such a strange and nice experience. It was 5 minutes of sheer, ironic happiness.