"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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"Weddings and Funerals"

Best friends   
sharing whispered secrets late into the night   
laughing at inside jokes   
crying at sentimental Hallmark card commercials   
dreaming   
Best friends 
writing voluminous letters across the years   
freezing moments with photographs   
offering comfort and strength 
supporting 
Best friends 
visiting at weddings and funerals 
revealing superficial news 
concealing heartbreak and disappointments 
surviving 
Best friends 
reconnecting despite differences 
creating new laughter 
rediscovering commonalities 

hoping 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"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

"The Best Laid Plans"

          I plan. As long as I can remember, I’ve set specific goals that I aim to attain. In my youth, I designed a year plan, a five year plan, and a nebulous “someday” list of possibilities. For years, I’d jot these objectives on the last page of my journals, sometimes including deadline dates. Many of these targets focused on simple things like to pay off a credit card in six months, plant bushes for Mother’s Day, buy a new chair for the living room, or replace the fence. I love that one since it’s been on my lists for the last five years!

           Then the years came where the lists shifted more to living goals: Harmony-not perfection, Count the good days, Listen carefully, Let it go. I imagine this shift came because I never crossed some items off the lists, never reached the goals. Or maybe I came to realize that some of those items never go away. There’s always something to buy or repair around a home. I like to think that my aspirations shifted into making myself a better person.

           During the last couple of years, the lists stopped altogether. I don’t want to remind myself that my washer and dryer approach year twenty-five and should be replaced. Also, I don’t want to shift into the future too far. Many days, I slip into survival mode where making it through the next twenty-four hours with grace and understanding seems enough of a focus for me. Those of you with elderly parents needing care understand this protective move. Planning ahead brings the possibility of too much loss and heartbreak. Instead, I’ve set aside my lists of goals because I know that within the next year, or even as little as six months, every plan could go awry.

Edna and Karl Abrams with us heading to a wedding

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman