Feeling Special

Reading the article of Conrado de Quiros brought back a particular memory -- no this isn't angst ridden--not at all. Back when I was working in the admissions office of a school I used to love, it was near five o'clock in the afternoon when the phone rang. When I picked it up, it was Fr. O'Brien asking who I was. He also asked if I could wait for his friends from Baguio who had come over all the way to submit an application form to the college. They were with him in the high school. I said I would, it wasn't a problem. He was concerned because offices, as a rule, closed at 5 pm.

I didn't have to wait long, I think he accompanied the young boy and his sister who came to submit the application form. That was quickly done with and I went home, not thinking about it.

The following day, lo and behold, the applicant gave me a bouquet of a dozen red roses to thank me for waiting for them. Up to now I recall that it came with a card indicating where it was bought, Perlie's near Quezon City Hall. Never mind that it wasn't obtained from a more plush flower shop, it was the gesture plus the fact that holding a bouquet of roses as I walked to the car made me feel like a beauty queen without a crown, a scepter or what would have merited them, guess what? Never mind. So I brought home the bouquet to show off to my sister though I would have wanted to give it to Mama Mary in the chapel. But I think Mama Mary must have understood how I felt then. After all, that was the first time ever I received such a gift of so many red, sweet smelling roses.