My friend Susan always used to refer to items that had outlived their usefulness as looking like the "last rose of summer." This year I really know what that means. Steve and Analisa gave me a rose bush for Mother's Day last spring, and in spite of recent below freezing temperatures every morning, it stubbornly continues to bloom. The blossoms are small and the once bright pink color is faded to a pale imitation of its vibrant summer color.
Sometimes I feel like I am approaching that "last rose of summer" stage of life. My once dark hair is now a mix of silver and brown. I even think I have fewer eyelashes these days (how silly!) Jowls are definitely foreseeable.
This afternoon I sat at the emergency room bedside of my much loved mother-in-law. The simple truth is that she is beautiful, not exactly like a rose of summer, more like a creation whose real identity is only known in heaven. Roses, "smoses"...beauty lasts far beyond summer.