Pink Carnations

Each week, a friendly young man visited Charlotte in the nursing home. He’d sit and talk to her, and she’d smile and nod even though she didn’t recognize him. Today, he arrived with a bouquet of pink carnations, her favorite. He handed them to her, looking out the window sorrowfully as he did. Charlotte leaned forward, taking his hand, and he burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, taken aback. 

“Nothing,” the man answered, wiping his eyes. “Sorry.”

“No need. How’d you know I loved pink carnations?”

“It’s Mother’s Day, Mom,” he said, his voice trembling. “How could I forget?”