Stop to smell the roses

July 18, 2012


My grandparents have a few rose bushes outside the gazebo.  They rose buds are really cute-- tiny, tiny, baby buds delicately sway on their stem, their little unopened fist made of petal so deep a pink is enveloped in green wrapping.  They're perfectly made.  I love buds almost more than I do the fully blooming roses.  The roses never cease to amaze me with their intricate fold upon fold of paper thin petals.  The colors are so vibrant and full.  Yet somehow, they're known for their modesty and simple quietness.

When we're at our grandparents house, I make it a point to sit amongst the roses.  I found long ago that to really appreciate their beauty, you've got to get on their height.  It sounds crazy, now that I'm typing it, but it was the most natural thing to do when I was standing over them.  I sank down to the mossy green grass known in Louisiana, laid back on the gazebo side, and stared at the roses' beauty.  They seemed so much more visible when I was under them- their little heads bobbing and swaying to the music in the wind.  It was so peaceful.  Just me and the roses.  And in a faint, faraway way, I could smell that rose smell.  You know, kind of dusty.  Kind of sad and melancholy, but sweet.  Perfume-y and thick.  The smell I never was particularly fond of... but it really fits roses.

Life seems to whiz by so fast.  People always said it did once you were "grown up."  Although, I don't really consider myself grown up-- just... growing up, I guess.  But they were right.  It's going by so fast; so quickly.  Yet some days I catch myself wishing I was older, that the years could afford me more respect and experience; that some things were past, and the future was here with all it's unwritten moments.  Then some days I want to wrap myself in a ball, become one of those tiny, innocent, baby rose buds and keep my childhood close and dear to my heart.  Never to grow up.  Never to have to care hard, live desperately, or lose myself in the monotony of grown up life.  Just sway with the gentle breezes and careless summers of childhood.  I'll miss that the most, I think.  Summer childhoods.

But I'll always stop and smell the roses.  Life is built on each heartbeat... and those will all to soon cease I fear.  We are, after all, only smoke in the wind ever to fade into the air...  Like rose petals falling to the ground.
-Gabby

5 comments:

  1. wow this is so simple yet so profound. I was just writing a bit of advice to another sister in Christ who - whenever we talk - we always complain how life is so busy; but I wanted to remind her never be too too busy to enjoy life as when she's double her age, it would be a shame to look back on it seeing how busily she sped through it without an ounce of enjoyment. love the photograph and the picture you portrayed through your lovely words.

    love ya always,
    your twin sis.

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  2. Beautiful post, Gabby! I love that you can pull so much inspiration out of a tiny little flower... and that photo is gorgeous as well! I'm so glad I found your new blog :)

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  3. Wow. Just wow. Some things are hard to find words to describe, but you manage to do it, m'dear! I *love* the way that you combined these two subjects.

    Love,
    Emily.

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  4. great post, LOVELY !
    Interesting blog, I really enjoyed browsing it :)

    Oh it's Juno

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