Mother’s Day, No Flowers for Me / Chapter 2: Carnations and Second Chances
Mother’s Day, No Flowers for Me

Mother’s Day, No Flowers for Me

Author: Susan Rodriguez

Chapter 2: Carnations and Second Chances

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On my way home from buying groceries, I passed by the flower shop downstairs. The owner, who’s from my old hometown, pulled me in for a chat.

Sandra waved me over, her apron streaked with pollen, her smile wide and familiar. The shop smelled like fresh earth and sweet petals, the air thick with spring. She grinned, waving a hand. “You wouldn’t believe it, Linda! Come here!”

She teased me, eyes dancing with envy: “Wow, Linda, you’re so lucky to have such a thoughtful son! Your boy ordered a huge bouquet of carnations here for you—he said he’s giving them to you for the holiday tomorrow!”

She nudged me, laughing. “I saw the order slip myself—biggest bouquet I’ve sold all week! Carnations, and he picked the colors himself. You must’ve raised him right, girl!”

“Not like my useless son. He doesn’t even know when Mother’s Day is! And his mom runs a flower shop, for crying out loud!”

Sandra threw her hands up, chuckling. “Can you believe that? I remind him every year, and he still forgets. Maybe I should start charging him double until he finally remembers.”

My heart swelled.

For a moment, all the bitterness from last night melted away. The idea of my son thinking of me, planning a surprise—well, it made me smile, in spite of everything. I tucked that feeling away, holding it close like a little secret.

I couldn’t believe my son was finally getting it together!

It almost felt like a sign that things might turn around, that maybe he was starting to appreciate everything I’d done for him. I let myself hope, just a little.

He’s never given me anything for Mother’s Day before—at most, he’d remember to send a quick greeting.

Usually it was just a text: “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!” Maybe a call if I was lucky. But this—flowers, and not just any flowers, but ones he picked out himself—this was new.

After what Sandra said, I started to feel a little hopeful.

I walked home with a lighter step, the grocery bags swinging from my arms, a smile tugging at my lips. I almost felt giddy. Maybe this Mother’s Day would be different after all.

When I got home, I started on the housework as usual.

Habit took over—unpacking groceries, wiping down counters, setting out clean towels. The house was quiet, the air heavy with the scent of detergent and lemon polish. I moved through the motions, mind wandering back to the thought of those carnations.

My daughter-in-law doesn’t like me touching anything in their room, so I only go in every day to sweep and mop the floor.

I kept my distance, careful not to disturb anything. I knew the boundaries, knew where I was welcome and where I wasn’t. Still, I wanted the house to feel clean, even if it wasn’t always appreciated. I let out a little sigh. Some habits are hard to break.

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