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Papa’s Flowers

As I was enjoying a good book early this evening, I heard a soft knock on my door. It was my father with his regular delivery of flowers–just for me. Every night, as long as the sampaguitas are in bloom, my father picks flowers from our garden. Then, he heads directly for my room, located at the farthest end of the corridor. As I open the door, he draws them carefully out of his back pocket and gently hands them to me. It is a ritual I quietly and deeply appreciate.

Growing up, I don’t remember ever receiving a single birthday gift from my father. In our family, gift-giving is a duty relegated to my mom. That’s why this gesture, which started two years ago, is especially meaningful to me. You always hear this cliche that father knows best. In this case, I find it to be true. As much as I appreciate material things, nothing makes me happier than receiving a bunch of flowers. And no gift in the world, not even a diamond ring or a Canon EOS, can mean more to me than my father’s daily picking of sampaguitas.
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  1. How touching! I wish my dad would do the same…..but I suppose in a way he does…..instead of flowers, whenever I’m home for a holiday he always brings something from the local bakery or something from my cousin’s cake and pastry shop. He has this love affair with bread…any bread!! He especially loves them when it’s nice and warm! *wink*

  2. Thanks for sharing that, Anne! I was just reading about men who abandoned their families.How blessed we are to have great fathers!

  3. hi jen,
    okay okay.. looks like I have to give the canon eos to someone else….

  4. JC!

    soul sister! that’s the perfect term! HAHA! because your entry on why you’re happy struck me so much it was like hearing myself write about why i’m happy.

    i’m going to link you.

    may GOD continue to work through us 🙂

    & hurray for happy people like you & me =)

  5. so sweet of a father to be giving a flower to a daughter. =)

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