A week after Valentine’s day I came home from work to find my beautiful gift roses all fallen and wilted.
I’d let the water dry up.
I quickly snipped their stems and gave them water again, hoping they’d revive, to no avail.
Except for one.
My counselor and I have been talking about things I need to spend some time mourning. Consequently, I’ve been thinking about the stages of grief lately. Seeing my roses variously wilted spoke to me of those stages, with the single bloom defiantly, expectantly…hopefully…facing upward. So as the metaphor emerged, I turned the flower toward the light…it’s only true source of hope.