Where Roses Never Die

I remember the first roses I received. I was going on my first official date, and my beau brought me a beautiful bouquet of red roses. At the time I was so embarrassed when I had to bring them into the house and put them in a vase with all my siblings grinning at me. Our relationship lasted a little longer then the roses, but eventually they both died. I remember the roses I picked out for my wedding day. I insisted they be yellow because that happened to be my favourite colour of roses at the time. After the wedding I put them in the freezer where they lived in a frozen state for many years among the steaks and rouladen. Although I treasured them dearly I eventually had to throw them out and they died. I remember the single red rose my seven month old son, with the help of his father brought me on my very first Mothers Day. It was one of the proudest days of my life actually holding the title of all titles, Mother. I had held that dream in my heart since I was a young girl. Time past before my son said the word Mother, And long before he did, that rose had also died. In the years to come I received many roses. Red roses, yellow ones, white roses, blue, orange roses, pink roses, rainbow roses too. For Mothers day, wedding day, birthdays, holidays, date days, Sundays and just for fun days. Roses were always there from the day of marriage until they filled my husbands grave. Now all those roses, every single one, all gifts of love, have died. Every last one. The most amazing thing occurred over all those years, although the roses died memories of each and every one of them live on till this day. I still see them in their original beauty, smell their sweet scents. If it wasn’t for those roses, would I still remember those special days? My eyes have taken the pictures of each rose and filed them in my heart, where roses never die. Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 12.17.2014 Contest: Roses, Roses, Roses 2nd