He forgot our four year anniversary! I can’t believe it, all this time and he had forgotten it! At least, I thought he had. I came home from a long day of work that afternoon to a long line of rosy petals starting from the lengthy driveway. Each petal was a different color, showing how much time and effort he had put in this plan. The moment I saw it, a smile appeared on my face. “This must be why he never called to tell me happy anniversary,” I whispered in glee. My long, curly brown hair nearly touched the ground as I leaned down to touch the array of pink, orange, red, and white petals presented perfectly, and placed so delicately onto the smooth concrete walkway. My favorite were the red petals, so as I walked I gently sat each petal into the palm of my olive-toned hand. I wanted each moment of this to be spared. Reaching the door, just before I turned the doorknob to the kitchen.
“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” my husband purred from the right side of the door. In his hands, two plane tickets with the words “Jamaica” printed on them caught my eyes.
“Oh my!” I weakly gasped, “you did remember!”
“I don’t know how I could forget, we’re going to Jamaica!” He exclaimed, picking me up and taking me into his arms.
“We haven’t got a moment to lose,” I backed away and scurried into the house, packing all the bags that I could before we rushed out of the house and into the car. The car ride was long and a little draining, but it didn’t amount to the bore that this town had caused me for the past twenty years. We reached the airport within what felt like five hours but in reality was only about one. I took a deep breath. Trying to remember if I had forgotten anything, I grabbed my sweet husband’s hand and looked into his eyes. “It’s now or never,” I whispered.
As we reached the inside of the airport, from the corner of my eye I noticed my husband had grabbed a bundle of red flowers and slyly paid for them. “Silly,” I thought to myself.
Finally, after a long time of lines, waiting, and luggage screw-ups we arrived to the gate of our flight. “Honey,” my husband called out.
“Yes?” I turned. He presented me with the flowers. Even though I had seen him buy them and noticed several times that he had tried to hide them from me, the thought of all the work he had put into it all made my heart flutter. I nearly sprinted towards him, jumping into his arms, and planted a giant kiss on his lips. “Thank you, darling,” I breathed. We turned and entered the large metal plane that had big bold letters painted on the side that read “Jamaica.”