Open Writing

Each life is like the rose. Before the bud is formed, the new life is already there, without anyone being aware of it.

Then we realise that, as the bud begins to form, there is the promise of new life.

As we watch each day, we see the colour begin to peep between the green protective sheaf, and day by day we begin to see the 'character' in the colour and form.

Then, after a few days, we see the planned contours and shades of colour, which are unique to that bloom. No two blooms are identical; each has a uniqueness of its own. They can be from the same plant, but there is always something special about each one.

As the time passes, the colours are richer, and the shape fuller and, particularly in roses, the perfume sweeter.

To those tending the plant, there is much satisfaction and joy in observing the progress of the blooms.

It has been said that the quality of a good wine grows sweeter with age. So it is with a good rose.

But alas, the inevitable happens. As the rose nears the end of its designated life span, the petals begin to shrink and sometimes discolour, and then one by one they fall to the ground.

Nature has a wonderful plan. The petals then assimilate into the soil, to benefit the growth of future plants.

I have beautiful memories of some of the roses I have grown throughout my lifetime. And there are some that have been special to me, just like some people have been special.

Some have had unique shapes, colour and perfume; some have produced more thorns than others—usually they would jump out and grab my husband as he was in the vicinity, or at least that’s what he always claimed. Some required more care than others, sometimes heavier pruning to get rid of the deadwood, and spraying to kill the bugs and diseases. But some grew without much care, and still produced exquisite, highly perfumed blooms.

I think of life, and how we each begin as a tiny seed, and there is awareness that life is imminent.

As life grows and matures from the bud, each produces unique character and colour. And as the years pass there are gradual changes, until the time arrives when the fading begins and eventually the life becomes a memory.

Children are born, and as they develop they all need lots of love, requiring attention and discipline. After a while, they mature to become their own unique character.

People have always meant a lot to me, and I enjoy noting the many personalities and traits which become obvious through their lives. The one who had the greatest effect on my life was my mother, who was like a beautiful rose and who, in the entire 78 years of her life, gave much love and happiness to others. What she meant to my siblings and me is now a beautiful memory.

People meant a lot to her and she loved to sing and play her mouth organ. She enjoyed fishing, and would often head off in her little car for the day, and we were confident that she would arrive home with lots of fish for tea.

One day she was fishing alone on the river bank across the river from Apex Park, and was pulling in many fish, when a couple of men in boats, after observing her for some time, moved across to her immediate vicinity, and cast their lines into the water. Mum decided to move further along so there would be no conflict or crossed lines, and she still pulled in lots of fish. To the other fishermen’s dismay, they caught nothing. But they had great admiration for this little lady who just quietly went ahead with a smile, regardless of any obstacles which came her way.

I have seen my mother care for so many people over her lifetime: her family, her friends and others who just needed someone to be there.

As her life passed and silver replaced the black in her hair, she gained a glow that was most fitting to her.

Like the beautiful rose, she too faded away, and nothing can take away the beautiful memories which remain.

© Rose Perry