Love is Enduring

A while ago, I saw a posting where a woman showed off her lovely roses that had dried up, no longer bright and cheerful, blushing with new color. They were aged and beautiful in their own right.

The leaves and the purple flowers have held their colors, the roses are fading into an antiqued look. These are my birthday flowers from my son–two weeks old And to me, they are as pretty as ever, in an antiqued kind of way.

 

dried mother day roses1 (640x559)

 

My parents' gift to me copy

My parents are long gone, but like the flowers they sent to me when my daughter was born, they live on forever. My father didn’t give my mother bouquets of flowers. They didn’t last long for the money spent on them, she’d say. But these are well over two decades old and have made moves twice, and yet, they still are beautiful, a special gift I will treasure always. Love is everlasting.

Terry

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

www.terryspear.com

Connect with Terry Spear:
Website:
Goodreads:
Facebook:
Twitter:
Jaguar Family
Purchase Link:

 

 

2 thoughts on “Love is Enduring

  1. Terry,
    The flowers are beautiful. What a wonderful keepsake from your parents. Every time you’ve spoken about them it seemed they were very special people. I’m sorry they’re gone.
    *hugs*

    • Thanks, Bonnie! I was moving everything around for the painters who had to repaint my ceilings, and when I did it, I brought down the flowers from a high chest and hadn’t given it that much thought, until I saw the other post the woman had done about her dried flowers. 🙂

      They were special. We did so much together and both were so thrilled about my writing. My dad didn’t live to see me get published, but he was reading my first novel and editing it, loving it, before he died. We were having lunch out one time, and brainstorming a story, and I began making notes on paper napkins. He told the waiter I was soon to be a published author. He was so proud of me way before I ever was published.

      My mom had seen my first 8 novels published, 4 of them the wolf stories. So she told everyone about them. “She writes that wild paranormal stuff.” Then she’d smile and her friends would nod agreeably. And yet, mom was the one who got me hooked on Dracula when I was a teen and took me to see it at a college play. We watched Star Trek growing up, and both she and my dad loved horror stories. She was so funny.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.