I love roses. Maybe I’m some sort of girly cliché, but they really are my favorite flower. I think my love affair probably began as a child, when I would play in my beloved grandmother’s rose garden. I loved it there. Roses are also the first flower my husband ever gave to me and the only one we had at our wedding. And 2+ years later, we christened our daughter with the middle name of “Rose.” So when we first moved to our new home, I was tickled to find a public rose garden in a nearby city:
I don’t make it there often, but I love it when I do. In the spring, after my miscarriage, I went there and found a special surprise: in the garden, there is a plaque remembering a lady who must have been important for one reason or another, at one time or another. But what struck me is that her last name is the same as the real, human name that I gave to our Teddy Graham. It’s an uncommon name that I’ve never heard anywhere else and it was a beautiful, unexpected moment when I discovered that plaque just a month after losing our baby. To me, it felt like an unspoken message from God.
So yes, roses are my favorite flower. They are special to me in so many ways.
(And btw — for anyone who cares, that’s my Honey and our Cupcake in the photo background.)