This morning was a tough one–I had a wonderful day with the kids yesterday, so returning to my solitary life was hard. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, so I indulged in some time sitting on the sunporch petting a purry kitty. Letting myself just be where I am right now. (oh my, I’m sounding awfully new-agey)…
But then I packed up and got myself out the door and on to work. As I was driving, I noticed at nearly every intersection there was a mass of rose bushes. I was simply enjoying this–the textures and colors of the roses as I waited for lights to turn green–when it hit me. Duh. I landed in the City of Roses for this month of transition. And all of a sudden I felt as if the universe had just picked me up and given me a huge bear hug and sloppy wet kiss on the cheek.
(PS: This story that I wrote quite awhile ago when I was active in the LDS church, explains why roses are so important to me)
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I resisted roses for a long time. Until they forced themselves, compassionately but insistently, into my consciousness. What a place to land . . . this month of months.