Mr. Beige and the Bouquet

He stood out in Costco like a sore thumb. Surrounded by lines of shoppers with carts overflowing, he held only a bouquet of flowers in his hand. No one buys one item in Costco. If he hadn't been such an aberration, I may not have noticed him at all.

He was the original Mr. Beige: A conservative intent on blending in. Brown, casual lace-ups, beige Dockers, brown belt, a beige shirt interrupted only by an innocuous, retreating plaid. Even his hair was brown with small patches of grey near the ears and male pattern balding in the back. He was not old, but his posture aged him. Sloped shoulders and a bit of a stoop is not the walk of a strong, young man. Mr. Beige did not appear to be a man to make an imprint on the world.

But there he was carrying a wildly colorful bouquet of eye-popping red sunflowers, purple lupine, and bright yellow achillea. The contrast between his flower selection and his indistinct appearance held my attention. Apparently he wasn't beige to his bones. Mr. Beige possessed a heart of sunflowers and lupine, the heart of a romantic. The thought made me smile.

Was it possible Mr. Beige was wooing someone? One look at his left hand told me he was a married man. Most married men don't bring home flowers often. What was the special occasion? Or was it an attempt to smooth something over. To fill the too large space that sometimes lives inside a marriage. Was it an apology for some inconsiderate remark? Or could it be a celebration? A milestone to share together? Or just maybe it was for no special reason at all, except to say that she was special, just the way she was. Whatever the reason, there he stood with his heart in his hands, that flamboyantly hopeful heart which he would give to someone important.

I hoped she would appreciate it. That she wouldn't be too busy to give it the moment it deserved. That she wouldn't be intent on holding a grudge or winning the battle or lengthening that empty space, but that she would take his heart, hold it, admire it, water it, and cherish it. That she would kiss him hard and mean it.

As I watched him pay and walk away toward the big open doors and the rest of his life, I hoped someone out there saw Mr. Beige in technicolor. Perhaps he had made his mark on someone's world after all. As those brilliantly red sunflowers disappeared from sight, I truly hoped so.