“Where are we going?” I would ask my mother every day when she picked me up after elementary school, hoping she would respond, “White House Florists.” For as long as I can remember, that is where she has worked. I loved being in the shop surrounded by flowers upon flowers that soaked up the sunbeams shining through the large glass windows. Each flower had a different personality: lisianthius waiting to be showcased at a party, blue hydrangeas ready to be exhibited at a baby shower, and roses begging to be displayed at a wedding.
As I passed through the succulents, the ceramic birds perched on the shelves, and the floral arrangements sitting flawlessly in the glass cooler meditating to the hum of the refrigerator, I too, felt myself cooling down harmoniously with them. I would talk to my mom about my day at school while sweeping the floors or filling up water tubes. On other occasions, I did my homework and practiced my English class speech assignments in front of my mother’s co-workers. My time was well spent in the floral shop learning more than flower arranging, but life lessons that, to this day, have made an impact on me.
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By Valentine’s Day of that year, although I did not realize it, I was well versed in every phase of the shop’s operation. I was even quite familiar with the back corner, where the real magic of floral design happened. Over time, I was ringing up customers and organizing orders, but as the weeks passed things started to get more hectic and extra hands were needed to create arrangements. I knew that it was my time to shine, and I rose to the