A Letter to Mr. Lowdermilk

Dear CV Lowdermilk,

Let me begin by thanking you for your unyielding friendship and generosity over the past 4 years. You and your wife have truly been a blessing.

I am writing you to confess. Though the roses you bring in to my little coffee shop are refreshing and a delightful touch of elegance, I have been swiping one or two here or there as I walk out of the door at the end of my shift in order to put them to better use. It is me; I openly admit it.

I appologize for the gradual disappearance, but also write to say that not only do I lack regret for my theft but plan to continue in my thieving as roses are a bit pricey for my barista purse. Blame the Harrisburg residents and their reluctance to drop their spare change into my jar labeled "Thanks a Latte!".

Not only are your delicious smelling roses free and in convenient abundance, I appreciate that they come from a wholesome garden where each one is tended to regularly and with precision, rather than the impersonal, dollar-driven haste that is the Metrolina Greenhouses of Charlotte, NC.

I have been guilty of this childlike crime two times as of today, though I feel that you will not hesitate to forgive my behavior when I tell you that my grandmother has enjoyed them immensely! I take one to her and chat awhile as usual, letting her know the goings on of my life and expressing my acceptance that she had to leave but also my tremendous grief that she has gone away.

Do not worry, I tie a giraffe print ribbon around each one so that she knows precisely who they come from without an ounce of wonder.

I ask that you keep this little whisper between the two of us, no matter how insignificant you find this confession. I do not want my family to know how uselessly, commiserably weak I remain after my loss.

Thank you and please bring more of those lovely peach colored roses she finds so imposing.

With Sincerity,
Casey Howie