My Life in Symbolism: The Last Rose (part 2)
Of the two rose bushes , the one on the left bloomed first. Seven or eight roses, all at once. The one on the right, meanwhile, only had one bud on it. It finally bloomed as the roses on the left bush were starting to fall apart.
I named it. It was the Last Rose. I greeted it each time I came in or walked out the door. And it was my favorite part of the apartment, especially since that was the week my Internet died.
I wrote the relevant blog post on a Sunday. I lost service the previous Tuesday and didn’t get it back until the following Thursday. Given the fact that the service box was about 300 feet from the Internet Service Provider’s service building, which itself is located right next to my apartment complex, needless to say I’m slightly bitter about the fact that it took so long and so many phone calls to finally get it fixed.
Wednesday was the worst day. By this point I was convinced that I would never get the Internet back and I was going to die a crazy cat lady, alone and unloved. (If something’s going wrong for longer than expected, I have a slight tendency to imagine the absolute worst, whether related to the current situation or not.) This was conviction was strengthened when I looked in the rearview mirror as I pulled into my carport and realized the Last Rose was gone.
It had seemed strong that morning. Definitely starting to wilt, but I didn’t expect it to be…gone.
There is a life cycle, and part of this cycle is death.