This year, on Mothers Day, the first rose appeared on one of the yellow bushes in my back yard.
Roses remind me of my mother. Roses are the flower for June, her birth month. When cancer was draining the life out of her, she spent most of her time in bed. During this time, she decided to grow roses in pots on the balcony outside her room. She was not really the gardening type. When I asked her why this sudden interest, she replied that she always loved roses, but never really took the time to grow them before. Now that she was unable to do much else, she decided to take this chance to do some would give her joy. I was deeply touched that with the little energy she had left, she chose to do something so beautiful. My mother passed away in September 1979.
My daughter, Saman, was born in October 1980. Years ago, for Mothers’ Day, she gave me one of those tiny potted tea roses that they sell in grocery stores. It was the first rose bush I ever planted in my garden in Vienna, VA, where I was living at the time. I now live in Santa Fe, NM. Last year, on Mothers Day, I bought a small red rose plant called True Love, and planted it in my back yard in honor of my mother.
Last week, Saman texted me a picture of a gorgeous rose in her garden in Atlanta, GA. That she, in her late thirties, is doing what her grandmother didn’t until she was in her seventies, heading towards the end of her life, touched me deeply, and brought tears of joy to my eyes.
Below: Left: Saman's Rose Right: My True Love Rose