Thursday, April 22, 2010


Please don't give me roses.

Don't get me wrong: Roses are a beautiful tradition, a lovely gesture. But they're just that: a gesture. They smack of trying too hard and yet, of not trying hard enough. Of trying to impress with the cost and the ostentatiousness, but not trying to find out who I am or what I really like.

Roses are too lofty, too rife with metaphor, with their soft petals amongst the thorns. They're for apologies, for Mothers' Day and Valentine's Day. They're for pageant winners, prom dates, and brides.

I am none of those things. Give me something from the earth. Give me daisies or tulips or sunflowers that fill the room with color. Give me the gardenias that remind me of my mother. Give me the night-blooming jasmine that scented the evenings of my childhood.

But please don't give me roses.


wendryn said...

I completely agree. Roses have become the fallback. Don't know what to get? Hey, how about roses! Everyone likes roses, right?


I'm glad someone else feels this way!

dara said...

I do like them, but they're not me. Or I'm not that kind of girl. Either. (Both?)

thinkingtoohard said...

I'll take the damn roses - and then I'll tell him how much more I want. Moonbeams and pieces of blue sky and stark, naked honesty and trust. And a million other things that are more likely to be found in crocuses and tulips. But I still like the roses.
And this post rocks, Dara.