Home Is How the Roses Feel
A dreamscape of flowers
You stand on a raised wooden deck in the middle of an endless field of flowers. In every direction out to the horizon, a rainbow of blossoms lifts their petals to the bright sunny sky overhead. Crimson tulips, yellow buttercups and black-eyed susans, foxgloves in pale purples, pink roses, miniature white roses, and heavy-headed red roses - this garden has no boundaries between each bud. Lavender brushes up against cosmos, and honeysuckle gently entangles itself with tiger lilies. And yet, the sweet scent of these flowers isn’t overpowering. It washes in over you like a polite tide with each gust of breeze, briefly tumbling over the edge of the deck before falling back.
Pulling your gaze away from the sea of color, you find that this island of wooden boards is also a delight to the senses, supporting a bench of tightly woven branches, a wooden table set with gauzy fabric and a porcelain tea set, and trellises that give a number of the flowers a place to reach up between the floorboards and climb up to keep you company. There are vines and small white and green buds that twine through the bench. Jasmine has hugged a leg of the table in order to reach up and grasp for a teacup.
The flowers don’t move, except to nod in the wind, but you can feel their presence all the same, as if they were long-awaited company, now sitting quietly in your space and offering all the comfort of a full, open heart, and a compassionate ear. The adoration of these flowers for the sun, for the field, for the rains beyond the horizon, and for you standing among them, is palpable. Their love drifts up and around you like steam from a mug, suffusing you with each grateful breath.
The ocean of flowers speaks with one voice, a familiar voice, and it speaks the words that your heart has been longing to hear.
