I just uploaded this pic of my newly picked roses to Instagram and commented about my new found therapy. The upload prompted more than some hash tagging...my wheels began to turn.
I never thought I would have so much joy and relaxation while cutting my own roses and displaying them in my house. We watered them, trimmed them, and watched them grow. Similar to our children, they are family. They are a part of us.
If you would have asked me 10 years ago if I'd ever see myself caring for a rose bush, I probably would have laughed and commented about my anything-but-green-thumb. An old "therapy" that comes to mind as I lived alone in my tiny apartment in Hillcrest was thumbing through magazines, listening to music, and more than likely 'Sex in the City' was playing in the background.
I found relaxation tonight in the quiet, the still and hot humid air. It reminded me of my childhood summers in North Carolina. I took notice of the sky, the colorful clouds, and everything else we forget to look at.
My gratitude in these moments made me think of my friends. The changes they have been faced with. What is their therapy now I wonder?
I wished for a moment I could give them my roses. Knowing full well that my flowers would probably not soothe them, I instead looked up at the moon and silently told them I was thinking of them. I wish them a new therapy that brings them to a new space.
And you know what makes my newly cut roses even more special? Now when I look at them I will think of my friends.