Consider writing on the card the date of your first fight and adding: “We survived this. We survived everything.” It’s obscure, it’s personal, and it makes the flowers into a time capsule. People will wonder, but that’s fine—it’s not for them. It’s for the guy who threw a pillow at you in 2008, then hugged you five minutes later.
At the end of the day, the flowers wilt. The card gets tucked into a box or maybe lost. But the moment you chose words that were yours—messy, imperfect, real—that moment stays. Sarah finally wrote: “You’re the best thing that ever happened to my coffee table dance.” He would have laughed. And that’s the whole point.
