Unexpected gifts are always the best.
Early the other morning while a young man struggled to load a half whiskey barrel into the back of the Volvo, I felt a light touch on my arm.
It was my tailor, an elegant wisp of man who once worked for a couturier in Paris. “Wait here,” he said. He disappeared into the parking lot.
A moment later he strolled back with a plastic bag of gardenias, freshly cut from his garden. “For you,” he said.
Twenty five gardenias, ruffled ivory petals perfuming the air with their cool, jasmine-like scent, now floating in bowls throughout the house.
It’s the scent of memories.
Thank you, Mr. T. And Happy Memorial Day to you all.