Roses

Today I was sitting at the dining room table staring at a beautiful bouquet of roses; eleven red and one white. There were originally twelve red, but one was given to my grandmother for her birthday. The white one was snagged away from my sister’s co-worker.

These are not my roses. The roses were sent to my sister from her sweet and romantic boyfriend. It was a small part of her Valentine’s Day gift. I told her she would get roses, chocolate and most likely jewelry. I got three out of three.

I’ve often wondered why we give roses. Yes they are beautiful, but they die. They are short lived.

Red Roses

Red Roses

I’ve often wondered why we give roses. Yes they are beautiful, but they die. They are short lived.

If the roses are suppose to symbolize the love someone feels for another, do I really want something that is beautiful for only a short time?

I look at them now, and they have already begun to wilt.

White roses Left is fresh alive Right is blah and dying

White roses
Left is fresh alive
Right is blah and dying

The white rose is actually very sick looking.

There is one rose. It has bloomed beautifully, but I know it too will soon die.

As a hopeless romantic, I want a love that will last. I don’t need roses, candy, or jewelry (don’t get me wrong, they are nice) to show romance.

Romance and love are picked wild flowers, a sweet note in my desk, a look from a crowded room, a text with just a smiley face… All of these show love at no cost. These are things which can happen any day of the year, month, or week. Why does it have to be on a special day? Valentine’s Day. Mother’s Day. Birthdays. What about Just Because it’s Wednesday?

~Hopelessly Romantic ~ DA

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