My favorite color for roses is peach. A very warm and loving hue for me. I mentioned this to my mother sometime in my teens. She smiled and told me that my father brought her peach colored roses when I was born. Apparently, my shade preference was imprinted very early on in my life. Of course I learned later in life that roses were of a dangerous sort of beauty with their thorny stems. If you don’t handle them carefully, you’re liable to be pricked and bleed.
I can think of other metaphors to compare Life and Love, but I resonate most with roses. The blooms are sweet-smelling and the petals are velvety to the touch. Is there nothing more sweet-smelling than a freshly-bathed baby? (Okay, not everyone thinks so, but I know plenty of parents and grandparents who do!) And such soft velvety skin newborns have! *melt* Oh, and the fuzzy pink stupids of new relationship energy (NRE) when you first meet that special new person. So shiny! So lovely! Their shit doesn’t stink yet! Yet…. There’s always a ‘yet’….
You weren’t paying too close attention when you picked up that rose. Ouch! Pricked by a thorn. You got a little hasty. Ouch! Another thorn. You knocked over the vase and attempted to catch it. Ouch! Scratches up and down your arms, not to mention broken glass and water splashed everywhere. All you parents and caregivers know about the bumps, bruises, bruised egos, broken arms, broken hearts, bad colds & flus, bad grades, and other ailments between infancy and adulthood. For those who haven’t spawned or are in charge of rugrats, I’m certain you remember some of your own, or at least wish your cousin would quit telling that embarrassing story about the time you bounced her head off a trampoline in a fit of pubescent hormonal rage (yes, this really happened and frankly, I’m still mortified nearly 30 years later). Finally comes the day when the shiny has worn off and the cute little habits like leaving the cap off the toothpaste or not cleaning up after making a sammich are not so cute. You got a little carried away, no condom was used, and now there’s a pregnancy scare and/or STI test results pending. You get knocked up after only three months of being together, and that’s when you discover he’s a raging alcoholic in denial and a pathological liar. You finally leave when he becomes abusive and you fear for your infant’s safety as well as your own.
Yes, that last example also really happened, but that’s a story for another post.
Life has it’s ups and downs. Same goes for Love and relationships. There is Pleasure, as well as Pain. Hopefully, during those sweet-smelling, warm, and loving times when everything is coming up roses, we are mindful of the thorns and handle the pokes and scratches with Grace and gentleness as to minimize the bleeding.
Jamais la rose sans la piqûre…. Never the rose without the prick….