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You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you?

Sitting on the dining room table was a little planter filled with pink sweetheart roses half in bloom when I returned home from grocery shopping. I was just reading the note when my husband walked in the front door after a school board meeting for which I’d typed the minutes, so I rushed over to hug him and said, “Thank you! The flowers are beautiful! What a marvelous surprise!”

He stepped into the dining room and gazing at them said, “Sorry, I didn’t send them. Was there a note attached?” he asked.

“Just a note saying ‘Than you for your thoughtfulness. You’re such a sweetheart for helping me’.” I just assumed they were from you… who else would send them?” I asked.

Calling my son Jeremy, a lanky 12 year-old, I asked, “Were you here when the flowers were delivered?”

“Yep,” he said. “I said ‘thank you’ to the man, and put them on the table. I just assumed they were for you. Who else in this house would get flowers.”

“Well this is a mystery, then.” Looking at me quizzically he said, “And you have no idea who sent these to you?”

“No. No idea at all,” I replied.

Just then my daughter, Meg, 15, came into the house. She’d been out for a run — she was quite an athlete. She remarked on the flowers, too, and read the note.

“Oh, my gosh!” she said. “These must be from that old guy down the street I saw on my run yesterday. I stopped because he was standing there, leaning on his cane, yelling “Clementine”, over and over again, and looking so upset. He was walking he dog when she broke free to run after a rabbit. He kept calling, but she kept dashing through the park. He certainly wasn’t going running after her, so I took off sprinting, and reached her when she stopped to stick her nose down a hole in the ground. Luckily she hadn’t made it to the busy street on the other side of the park.”

“What a kind thing to do, and I don’t even know his name,” she said.

Dad chimed in, “It might be that old Mr. Ferguson. He had hip surgery recently, so he hasn’t been out much in a while. He lives at the other end of our street. So, my fifteen year-old daughter is getting flowers from men already!” said Dad. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to the idea.”

Mom looked disappointed that she didn’t have a secret admirer, but she hugged Meg, and told her how nice she had been to help out someone in need.

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