Every year he gave me roses, when he could remember. Roses for my birthday, roses for our anniversary, roses for Valentine's day.

Roses for sorry.

He was always sorry.

The roses he bought were red and beautiful at the height of their short red life. Like all roses, they meant nothing to him. They were simply what you give to women. Perfect red roses.

"Be quiet back there and don't pinch your sister. We will be at your dad's house in fifteen minutes." My eyes watch my son in the rearview mirror. His next pinched stops mid air.

Yeah, kid, I thought so, don't mess with Mom.

I look into his brown eyes the match to his father. He smiles at me the same smile of his father.

My eyes flick away from my son as if stung.

Do you ever get over your ex-husband really?

When you have kids you look at them every day. You clean their scraped knee. You make them lunch. You kiss them good night.

"I'm sorry," I hear my ex-husband tell me one year ago. The last time he missed an important event. He was working. He forgot. A dozen roses. "I'm sorry," The words repeat in my head like a broken record. His hand extends to mine trying to shove the perfect flowers into my hand.

Twenty-four perfect stems.

Twenty-four perfect roses.

Not one bit of care.

"Don't give me roses," I whisper the words. I whisper them because I know, the kids might matter. His job might matter but I. I don't. I was a placeholder. Insert [Wife goes here.]

My heart finally did what it should have done years ago. It broke. Dribbles of red bloody drops from my heart onto those red, red, roses.

A commotion from the back seat interrupts my thoughts. My son snatches my daughter's Valentine card from her hand. He waves the trophy around in his hand.

"Enough give it back to her," I shoot my son a full evil mom eye in the rear view mirror. This kid is on a roll today. We turn into my ex's driveway. I park the car and unlock the two back doors. My kids both rush out the doors. One quick mischievous smile from my son and a wave from my daughter. The kids slam the car doors close and head to their dad's house. With the overnight backpacks thankfully on.

I turn off the car. My heavy head falls back to the car seat. The weight of the world leaks out of my body and I take a little moment for myself. Savoring this tiny amount of peace. The sigh that leaves me is audible.

My eyes go to the rear view mirror to check the backseat damage. My daughter forgot her Valentine card. I reach into the back seat and grab it. Head to my ex's door to slide it into the mail slot. I can leave a text message about the pickup.

I walk up and bring my hand up to knock the door. My son opens the door before I can get there. Taking my hand and ushering me inside. We have rules, we divorce amicably. I would like to keep that up and this is breaking the rules.

The living room is tidy. A piece of cloth covers the end table and my son leads me over to it. Lets go of my hand and gave me his mischievous smile. He heads up the stairs with his sister and their bedroom doors close.

With the close of the kids doors, my ex-husbands exits the kitchen. He smiles at me in a mirror of my son's smile. Pure little boy delight with a dash of mischievous. No business suit today. He's in an old pair of jeans and a white t-shirt.

"Hi, it's been a while," his smile reaches his eyes.

One of my eyebrows lifts up. It has been a while. We carefully avoid each other like the plague. Tip toeing around pick ups and drop offs never making eye contact. He looks at me like he sees me. It's been years since he saw me.

"I wanted to thank you."

"For?"

"Everything."

He pauses and the silence has that hanging quality of fog. I'm not sure what to do with this. My eyes break contact with his.

What does everything mean?

Everything is a loaded word. The pad of his thumb moves slowly across my cheek. He wipes the tear I didn't know was falling. I push his hand from my cheek away. He holds on to our join hands and brings them to hang casually at our side.

"What exactly does everything mean?" Our life together? My walking away? The breakup? Dropping off the kids?

"I can explain. The Arbutus flower thee only do I love," his hand slips under the cloth cover of the coffee table. He picks up a white flower with little curly white tips. Then turns our hand clasp together over and places the white flower into mine.

"Basil, good wishes," a mix of light purple and dark purple flowers. They join the Arbutus flower.

"Aloe, healing, protection, affection," a colorful orange flower. It turns darker orange the higher you get to the top.

"Carnation, alas for my poor heart," a beautiful deep red Carnation. My eyes close and I fight the tears. When I open them, he looks at me with a half-smile. Ending us was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

"Coriander, hidden worth," the little white flowers with a light pink center. It smells sweet.

"Cumin, fidelity."

"Daisy, innocence, hope."

"Edelweiss, courage, devotion."

"Hyacinth, constancy of love," a bunch of little blue flowers. Like a dollop of blue frosting on top of a cake ready to frost.

"Lavender, devotion, virtue."

"Plum Blossoms, strength," perfect little light pinkish purple flowers. On a dried out stick.

"Is that from our backyard at the old house?" I asked.

"Yes," he answers. I break. Almost everything I'd been holding back floods out. My tears are ugly fat globs. Does fixing a broken heart hurt as much as breaking it?

"Tarragon, lasting interest."

"Rosemary, remembrance."

"Yarrow, everlasting love."

"Violet, loyalty, devotion, faithfulness."

"Daffodil, regard, unequalled love, you're the only one, the sun is always shining when I'm with you."

"Bittersweet, truth."

"Carnation, I'll never forget you," a pink flower. With each flower that joins the others, it was like a brick. A brick to rebuild a space in me. I never realized how broken it was.

"Camellia longing for you," a pink flower.

"Zinnia, thoughts of absent friends."

"Chrysanthemum, I love you," a red flower. It has a hundred little petals.

"Salvia, forever mine," a red flower.

"Salvia, I think of you," blue flower.

"Hyacinth, I am sorry, please forgive me, sorrow," a purple flower. He wraps the stem around all the other flowers. It makes the ugliest flower arrangement I've ever seen.

My hand shakes around the flowers. My legs give out and the flower spread all over my lap. I let it out.

"It hurts," I say to him.

"I know," he says to me wrapping his arms tight around me.

*Epilogue*

Did that ugly flower arrangement fix everything in our relationship all at once? No, but we did become friends again. From there we started over and took it one day at a time. He saw me, and I saw him again.

My hand passes over the ugly flower arrangement for this year. I slip my wedding ring back on for the first time in years. I turn the ring on my finger nervously. Twelve fresh Daisy wrap around each other. They sit next to his arrangement for this year.

Daisy has more than one meaning. One is I have loved you a long time in secret. I never really stop loving him.

Ten flowers, will you marry me. Maybe, I should have got eleven and that might mean remarry me. We can make up our own rules.