At 12, I stole flowers for my mother’s grave

At 12, I stole flowers for my mother’s grave. One afternoon, the owner caught me, roses in hand. I expected shouting, maybe the police. Instead, she said softly, “If they’re for your mother, take them properly. She deserves better than stolen stems.” From then on, she let me choose a bouquet every week. Ten years later, I returned for wedding flowers. She didn’t recognise me until I spoke. Turned out…

…she remembers everything, just not in the way I expect.