This Road in Life

The road we travel in life is never guaranteed. We start off with hopes and dreams: the expectation of fulfillment.

Gerry is a good man. He's always worked hard. His first job as a kid was picking beans in the fields of Carson. When we met, he was working his way through college as salesman at Radio Shack. By the time we got married he was a "rocket scientist".



Today we have been married thirty-three years. To each other. In one go. Both sons are "ours", each conceived after the date on that certificate. If there was a medal for marriage- we'd be given ribbons for what has been accomplished so far.

Now, neither of us is perfect. Marriage hasn't always been easy. But what is best in life is never easy. It involves choosing well, remaining flexible and steadfast. Sometimes you are afraid, then when all appears lost, you keep on going, understanding that their is a role for the Grace of God.

Like loving a rose: you must learn to appreciate the thorns, avoid them whenever possible and be prepared to nurture each other through what appears to be impossible hardship.

This week I decided to move my precious 5'standard Lillian Austen Rose Trees. These were rare when I found them on the Internet the year Hortus in Pasadena went out of business. With petals saturated in the colors of the Maui sunrise, they enchanted me with the scent that wafted off their blooms held nose high on the standards. They were tops on my wish list. But with Hortus gone- where would I find them?
Gerry says I translate "impossible" as motivation. I spent weeks relentlessly searching for a source on the then new Internet- found a pair 100 miles from here. Yeah!

Potted up- their vertical interest and size never got so big as to block the view like a regular tree would have. But the blooms faced upward- too high to enjoy without adding a balcony. So, before the last weeping varieties are off the market (Weeks stopped production on the 5'tree standards two years ago) I got the shovel out and spent the day moving the two Lillian Austen's to where their height would put the blossoms at best advantage.

"Crack" the sound was unmistakable. OMG- it wasn't that I beheaded the rose: it had split apart at the knee.

Emergency surgery was performed on site. Corresponding v cuts were made at the amputation. B-1 was painted on. I held the joint steady while my husband bandaged the wound in Saran Wrap. Electrical tape was wound round to help contain the moisture. Two small pieces of scrap wood became splints. The outer cast is electrical tape.

Will the rose live? I don't know. Much is out of my hands. For one: I can't control the weather. One thing I know from being married so many years is that miracles happen every day. If you work towards them.