Last night I planted some flowers in planters in front of my house--ivy (two kinds), pansies (purple and white and yellow), and angelonia (purple)--and I liked the effect so much that I told my husband, "I hope I forget all about planting these so that when I come out the front door first thing in the morning, they'll be a wonderful surprise." He laughed, and rightly so. No matter how many times I reminded myself to forget the flowers, I still remembered them when I got up this morning and as I ate breakfast and while I showered and dressed. I'm a failure at forgetting, I told myself. May as well not even try.
So I stopped trying to forget. Instead, I did my nails and then immersed myself in Remembrance of Things Past while the nail polish dried. When I finally went out the door, I was so intent on avoiding smudging my nails that I didn't even think about the flowers but walked right by without even seeing them.
Then I got in the car and looked through the windshield and there they were: pansies and ivy and angelonia. I had forgotten all about them and now, seeing them as if for the first time, they were a wonderful surprise, an unexpected gift.
Is it the gift that keeps on giving? Note to self: remember to forget the flowers.