I came home from running an errand this afternoon to find an empty spackle bucket filled with something different…wild white roses.  I always love flowers and this surprise was most welcome.  To my great distress, as I was taking them out of the bucket and placing them into the vase, they began to disintegrate at the gentlest touch of my hands.

  After querying my boys as to their origin, and they not claiming any responsibility, I gave my husband a quick call.  He explained that as he was visiting a friend earlier in the day, the gentleman remarked that his wife had planted a long row of white roses along their fence years ago (she has long since passed) and would be happy if someone would enjoy them, urging Scott to take some home for me.  Scott could see that they were not really the sort for picking in the first place, and even less so because their petals were already falling so quickly, but he has a kind heart and agreed enthusiastically to take them home…to his sweetheart. 

And so they sit precariously on my sofa table, this very casually arranged bouquet of roses, waiting for my 19-year-old to accidentally aim the fan in the wrong direction and watch the floral snow scatter around the living room and I wonder…have I left behind anything tangible that my sweetheart will be able to share with a younger friend on a balmy spring day?

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends. To appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

Maybe somewhere in that list is something with which I have found success.  I would like to hope so.  But there’s no resting on my laurels…I’d better make sure!