Wednesday, April 20, 2011

“Yellow Roses”

     Yellow roses. My mother, sister and I all carried yellow roses in our wedding bouquets. As a young child, yellow roses appeared on my mother’s birthday, occasionally on Valentine’s Day, and always on anniversaries. Yellow roses bloomed on the dining room table when Mom felt blue. Yellow roses adorned the table with illness or loss. They said, “I care. I love you. You’re special. I’m thinking of you today.”
     Their tradition grew into my generation, with both my husband and my son recognizing the power of a yellow rose. Whenever life’s overpowered me with stress, a dozen yellow roses removes the harsh edges. If I’ve felt overlooked and underappreciated, a single yellow rose soothes my disposition with its velvet petals and fragrant scent.

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

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