The roses are blooming. Not politely or modestly. Not even in neat little rows.
No, they’ve erupted- red and wild and absolutely unbothered by anything that might try to contain them. Hundreds of blooms spilling like joy down the side of the cabin, stretching toward the sun like it owes them something. And maybe it does.
I stood there this morning, cooling coffee in hand, watching them. Just… watching. The light hit them like applause. And for a moment, everything else- deadlines, emails, undone to-do lists-fell off the planet.
There’s something about those roses. They don’t hustle and they don’t rehearse. They just arrive in full color, like, “What? This is what I do.”
It makes me wonder what it would feel like to live like that.
What would it feel like to not need to wait for perfect conditions or permission.
To just let myself take up space- bright, unapologetic, and a little unruly.
And to just live a life both peaceful and joyous at the same time.
There’s a lesson out there in those petals, a lesson about beauty, about boldness, and about blooming even when you’re tired. Even when you’re not sure anyone will notice. Especially then.
So while these roses are blooming, I will sip my now-cold coffee, and I will thank them for just showing up in red velvet armor to say, “You made it to this moment.“ Let that be enough- for now.
– me, the one wondering what part of me is about to burst into bloom next!
