Beautiful Again

For Valentine's Day, the Preacher bought Princess and me incredible roses. One rose for Princess, seven for me. They were beautiful.

One fell off and bumped its head. Now there are six.

After almost two weeks, of course, they're dying. They're still beautiful. But I do wish they'd last.

(Remind me to tell you about the time years ago I got upset when the Preacher stopped buying me flowers. Turned out he thought I killed them. So we talked about the difference between potted plants and cut flowers, and he started buying flowers again. The end.)

Today I noticed Chloe's purple rose had turned brown, and I was upset; I'd meant to dry it to put in our wreath. I'll just admit, that rotten rose made this tough day a little tougher. 

And guys, I don't mean to fuss about hard days all the time. There's good in every day, and there was good in this one. It's just been one of those weeks, y'know? My brave face fell off and shattered this afternoon.

We're waiting for our Easter, if you know what I mean.

Tonight before I put Princess's rose in the trash, I peeked inside the rotten petals and looked at for bud. Now, I've always loved rosebuds. I guess they make me feel like something good is coming: A rosebud means a bloom is on the way, right? 

And I found this: 

Do you know what that is? It's a bud. A beautiful, pastel pink bud.

The fact is, that bud's never going to bloom. The rose is dead-dead-deadsky. (Name that movie.) 

(Sorry about that. But oops! Not deleting it. You know you giggled.)

No, I won't hold my breath for this thing to bloom. That would be foolish. It's too late.

Sad, right?

But with that sweet pink bud hidden in the middle, you know what? It's not all dead. It's just mostly dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. (Name that movie.)

The difference is, it can live on in our wreath. 

And it can be beautiful again.

(C'mon, Easter!) 

Waiting, and not (just) for chocolate, 
Becki*