White Roses

An entire wedding of white roses was poised in a large planter between the Staples office store and Target department store. We were there at almost 7:00 p.m. No one was noticing them, well, not until I knelt in front of the plants with my little silver Coolpix and started clicking their faces.

These are not my roses, but for a moment I thought they were all going to come home with me because I was the only one admiring them.

With my camera full of the essence of roses, I slowly returned to a standing position, brushed the sidewalk grit from the knee of my Gloria Vanderbilt jeans (the ones I bought on sale at Kohl's), and realized that Mr. Fun was waiting quietly, patiently for this moment to conclude. I apologized. "Sorry," I quietly mumbled as I took his hand and we both moved toward Target. He said, "For what?" and then we walked through the open doors into the store.

In America we have entered the month that contains Mother's Day, Memorial Day, and for us memory days. It is the month that we were married, then married again, and again, and again. We have publicly married each other four times. Even though this year's anniversary will be a significant number, I don't think we're going to do the wedding thing. Honeymoon, maybe. For sure I am going to kneel and do homage everytime I see white roses. When no one is looking, I might just "don" a wedding veil just because I want to.

Staying married is a lot of work. I like this quote, "To catch a husband is an art; to hold him is a job." There must be a balance verse about a wife, but I don't know it.

So this month we're celebrating and in the process planning to make memories because they weigh nothing, are easily stored, and are significantly valuable. All month I'll be looking for white roses.

Good night from Southern California.
Rosie (& Mr. Fun), aka Carol