It's not much of a parking lot, but then they only really need it a few days a year. I was unsurprised to find it full, and unsurprised to find there was still one last space for me. (Parking lots never let me down.)

Two were in line ahead of me as I entered, which would be an amazing rush for this place, were it not the time that it is. I settled in to wait, eyes traveling across the baskets and vases, planters and stands: all the ways aromas and colors might be delivered, along with scribbles upon a card.

The first in line would not be much longer; his card had already been swiped, and he'd stepped to the side. Clad in jeans and a shirt, both apparently painted to match, he paid no mind to the progress of his transaction. He concentrated instead on posing the teddy bear in front of him, wrapping the string of a foil helium balloon around the wrist of its paw. He pursued this task with an improbable eagerness, having to be interrupted from it to sign his slip. It looked good on him - fitting, for a man near a generation younger than me.

All I could think of was the horrible choice he was forcing on some poor woman: someday she'd have to decide to throw out that bear. I only hoped, for his sake, that she'd find it difficult to do. Still, he was clearly sincere, and motivated, and he seemed a likely lad: I suspect he'll be looking at that bear for quite some time.

The second in line had a different approach - patient, bemused, his jeans and shirt caring nothing for current fashion. Fitting, for a man near a generation older than me. When his time came, he stepped up, and in quiet, definitive tones, he described what he intended to pick up from the shop the next day. Not a stumble or a stutter, in the cadence one uses at the auto parts store, to acquire parts to perform a repair done so often it seems routine.

I blinked at the lavishness of the order, as his manner and dress spoke of frugality, and his flowers were to cost twice what mine would cost. His eyes, however, twinkled only with satisfaction, as if he were making mischief, or planning to. Clearly there was a history to the intricacy of the arrangement, and my mind went to thoughts of a lady bowled over for a fortieth consecutive year.

I was still envying the energy of the one, and the confidence of the other, when my turn came around. It is not given to all of us men to do well what a lady believes a man should do, and perhaps I'm caught at a time of life where it just seems that doing these things well is difficult.

Let the record show, however, that I was there on the day I should have been there, and doing the best I could. It only occurred to me later that I should have saved the receipt.