A Rose in Bloom.

After a long week of feeling exhausted, and used up, I confided in my good friend Roxanne. I told her how I was feeling useless at my job, and just unnoticed. Funny thing is, of all the things she told me—she said, “Honey, you are sweet—if a rose didn’t have its sweetness, what would it be?”

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”

~Shakespeare

Grayce’s Memorial is long gone, but I kept the flowers I used around my apartment. I picked a beautiful flower called ‘Movie Star’ that was one of Grayce’s favorite colors, it seemed to honor her, and embody her because—she loved to wear that salmon pink color.

Even though I have been periodically cleaning up around the house and dumping the dead flowers, and it wasn’t until today that I noticed one flower remaining. It is as if it hasn’t aged a day, and the water in the tiny bud vase is clear as ever. I have never replaced the water. The other vases were green, and murky like an old fish tank. The other roses wilted and died straight away.

I find peace in the fact that one rose is still blooming.

Sometimes I think we have to choose to BLOOM.