It was Sunday evening and I was on the way to a dear friend's wedding when I first saw them. Their colours and beauty intoxicating, their elegance and charm irresistible. I made a decision right there and then to purchase some before the day was over.
The shop was about to close when we got back there. There were so many to choose from I couldn't make up my mind which to have. The kind old lady was nice and accommodating, but impatient, as she watched my eyes dart from one to another. With a friendly smile, in a friendly tone, she asked me to make my choice. In my heart, I perhaps knew, from the start, which I wanted the most - perhaps I was lingering only to feast my eyes a little longer on all the beauty spread before me.
At home, I had to clean, prune and trim. It hadn't been that long since I worked with the likes, but I had absolutely forgotten how thorny they can be! It is easy to forget the unpleasantness, you see, when all you could remember is how mesmerizing they were when you were done with them. It was tedious work and the thorns tore the skin on my hands - but I kept thinking of this quote I'd read somewhere:
Do not complain that roses have thorns - be grateful that thorn-bushes have roses.
Indeed I am grateful!
Your presence is such that Monday wasn't as gloom-filled, mundane tasks weren't as insufferable and the fact that there were four more days till the end of the week wasn't as unbearable.
Thank you for blooming so wonderfully. This week will be that much lovelier because of you.