My Rose
A couple of people I know got married some years ago. It was an ill-fated marriage; they really had very little in common, outside the bedroom, if you know what I mean. Their battles were long and makeup sex was strong, but after a few years it wore off, or rather on. After many attempts at attrition, there was just too much to forgive. One day while they were busy ripping and tearing their lives apart, I happened to stop by. As I was a friend to both of them, this was really an awkward moment, but too late, I was already there! As I walked around the property with her, (as she needed to vent,) I made small talk of the plants and flowers. I inquired as to the species of an ugly little lump of a stump in this small wooden container. It was a rose bush she insisted. With which he had attempted favor by dragging it into their lives at some point. It was an ugly little stump; it took some convincing for me to believe it was even a rose at all. She loudly persisted that I should have it, take it, do something with it; she sure as hell didn’t want the piece of crap. Reluctantly I accepted the “gift”. It looked dead, like a scrap of driftwood. I threw it in my car and made my escape as elegantly as possible.
A few days later I came across the “scrappling” in my car. I dragged it out, tugged gently at the stump and decided that it may have life in the root ball after all. Who knows what a good root ball can produce! I took it over to my potting bench and poked around the soil a little, put a handful of fresh mulch on top and sank a fertilizer stick into the deepest part of the little rotting container. It was evident that if it lived, I would have to get a new container for it soon. I found it a comfortable place to reside and figured I’d give it a shot.
Sure enough, just a few weeks later I noticed some shoots! I delighted in its first production of just one little rose. But it was clearly weak and it soon succumbed to a terrible round of nasty little critters that stripped its pathetic little stems to scrawny toothpicks. But after seeing that first rose I knew I could bring it back around. I went and got it a nice big new container, a bag of the best stuff around and gave it a place of distinction on my front porch.
The following season, I was ecstatic to get enough blossoms as to glean comments from passersby. Then once again, I had a hell of a bout with the critters. I was reluctant to use harsh chemicals because I felt she was a little delicate. I pampered her and did what I could with teas and concoctions. This cycle would play itself out for a couple of more years.
Then one year, just as she was beginning to put out some really promising blooms, again the damn critters began to munch, Oh! I can’t believe this! The poor thing has been trying so hard. It looked so sickly; I moved it away from the front of the porch to the back.
When I got up the next day there was a huge spider web covering most of what was left of leaves and stems. I figured what the hell, let him live there; maybe he can grow fat on some critters!
Sure enough, several days later I noticed that the progression of the critters had ceased. In fact there was some evidence of new growth. Oh my God! That spider really did eat the critters! Well, I was so astonished I tried to tell some people about it and I think they think I’m crazy. You Think?
Over the next couple of years, despite some amateur clipping accidents and several more bouts between critters, I have ended up with what appears to be a small, double trunk, mini “tree” of roses. This year my spider moved in early, how I love this guy, not another critter in sight! I played with the stems and crossed them over each other and secured them in the middle. They look really cool like that. The blooms are setting for the second time this year, and there is going to be even more this time around.
My friend stopped by the other day; it’s been years since she came around. As we strolled around my yard she proclaimed about what a beautiful rose that was! I proudly informed her it was the same one she had given me. Oh! No way, this was her rose? I bristled at the words rolling off of her tongue. Her rose? NO, this is my rose! But, being civil, I refrained from correcting her and let her wallow in her own self-glorification and lament about how she should not have given away such a beautiful rose. Her comment on how she had a spot that would be perfect for it at her new home, rolled off me like water on a duck. I wasn’t going to go there, and neither was my rose!
It wouldn’t matter to tell her that it would not even be in existence any longer had it been left in her care, nor that it would still not probably survive the future. She can beat her chest all she wants because the truth is; I know that I brought this plant to life. Yes, the root may have belonged to her, but she discarded and discounted its value. Now that it is plain to see it’s potential she wishes to bask in its glory! All of that doesn’t really matter, she can’t have it back, and it still lives at my house. I’m still the one that will run out and brush away the first snow and then tie and cover the stems to protect it. I will be the one to carefully trim it and feed it to help it “spring” to life next season. I’m the one that sees it grow and delights in the changes. I’m the one that basks in its glorious blooms! Ultimately, this is my reward; because you see, it really is my rose!
This story is dedicated to
Step-Parents all over the world, I wrote this especially for someone that needed a new perspective on accepting another's "discards"!
