My alarm didn’t go off so I wake up late and I’m having one of those days where everything seems to go wrong. I spill on myself just as I’m about to leave and my train is delayed by 20 minutes just when I think I might make it to work on time. I look at my watch and do some quick math wondering how long it will take me to walk to work versus wait for the next train. Either way, I’ll be late, so I decide to walk.

I anxiously rush outside and suddenly hear an older man's voice say, “Excuse me, miss!” I ignore him and keep going. I've been trained in New York to walk as fast as I can. He says it again, but louder this time so I turn around. It’s 7:45 in the morning on a Sunday and there he is, holding a big bouquet of colorful roses. He’s wearing a big smile and just standing on the street carrying a bouquet so big, you can barely see him. I'm confused as he walks closer and pulls out a tall pink rose. “Here, it's for you,” he says. I smile awkwardly and say, “No thank you, I'm sorry, I have to go.” As I start to walk away he laughs and doesn't seem surprised by my reaction. He speeds up and walks beside me as he says, “No, really, it's for you. I get up every Sunday and give flowers away. It just makes me feel better.” I smile genuinely this time, embarrassed by my defensive attitude. I take the bright, beautiful pink rose and thank him.

I continue my rush to work but suddenly everyone I pass is smiling at me. I feel like the kind of woman who starts her morning walk carrying a perfect long stem rose. Once I arrive at work I put the pink reminder in the center of the room. Every time I look over at the flower, it makes me happy. At the end of the day, as I lock up, I hear a family talking on the steps next door. A little girl points to me and says to her dad, “What kind of flower does that lady have?” I walk over, lean down, and say, “It's a rose and it's for you!” As I walk away, I can see her dad look at me just like I looked at the flower stranger that very morning.

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Check out Rachel’s stories at https://ourlightstories.com/