The Last Rose

My husband rarely collects "keepsakes" or memorabilia. And he rarely asks me to photograph something. But today he surprised me. He clipped a white rose from the rosebush in front of the house. The bloom was worn and almost gone. He put it in a glass of water. Then, this evening, he asked me to photograph it. After I was done, he asked me to press some of the petals.

This was the last rose of the season. It was from a rosebush his father planted the year before he died. It was one of his mother's favorite varieties, a John F. Kennedy hybrid tea rose. Since we hope to have the house sold this year, he wanted a remembrance.

I was touched by his sentiments.