My husband's mom's birthday was on Friday, October 14. As he does each year to celebrate her, my husband rose early on Saturday morning and went down to the flower district to choose blooms for the Sunday service altar arrangements he had committed to making. He arrived back home just as the house began to stir, all our out-of-town guests slowly surfacing from the depths of comforters and dreams as he wrapped the stems and carefully placed each flower. I could imagine his mom looking down from her heavenly perch and seeing these lovely red and pink anthuriums, picked and arranged by her firstborn's hands with so much filial adoration. Happy birthday, dear Nana. We love and miss you always.