Valentine’s Rose Love

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Abstract

figure><p id="b258">Our neighbor had dumped enough construction material on the street our home is on to block the road entirely.</p><p id="4199">I left my car in the middle of the street (on the side opposite to this one) and raced into the house — on foot — bawling for help. I had to be at work in half an hour and I was going to be late!</p><figure id="895f"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*[email protected]"><figcaption>Picture of husband’s abandoned cup of tea — after he’d been up with the daughter who had the exam, too!</figcaption></figure><p id="15b9">Knowing how late I would get if I tried to drive around the blocked street, my husband abandoned his still-steaming cup of tea to reverse my car and drive around the block to our home.</p><p id="6126">I was able to get to work exactly on time!</p><p id="c812">His tea was cold by the time he got back. He probably doesn’t realize it, but it is tiny sacrifices like these that make my Valentine’s week.</p><p id="6815">Note to self: wash the fake roses tomorrow! The younger kid — the one who has the exam, not the one who took the photo — has a dust allergy….</p><p id="84cf">Who in the world buys artificial roses for decoration? They’re just dust traps. So how c

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ome I own fake flowers when they’re just another domestic chore to me? Well, the answer is <b><i>sentiment.</i></b></p><p id="9567">On my last birthday, my husband was too busy to buy a gift, so he delegated the job to my assistant. She selected a vase and fake flowers and got them gift-wrapped for me. So I ended up owning a dust-trap, something I always try to avoid buying. Now I am stuck with them.</p><p id="1e84">And casting practicality aside: Well, I still look happy in the picture when he surprised me with the roses on Rose Day. It was a nice moment. My daughter took that picture.</p><div id="cbfe" class="link-block"> <a href="https://rovikesh.medium.com/membership"> <div> <div> <h2>Join Medium with my referral link - Tooth Truth Roopa Vikesh</h2> <div><h3>As a Medium member, a portion of your membership fee goes to writers you read, and you get full access to every story…</h3></div> <div><p>rovikesh.medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*SMrovG8YQBFEfjG5)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

It’s just mush — but it is a true story, and I want to record this feeling of love on my blog!

Photo of my husband and me, taken by my daughter, on “Rose Day”

Rose Day is the first of seven “days” in Valentine’s Week. On two of the other days, we’re expected to give each other teddy bears and chocolates. There’s also Propose Day, Hug Day, and Kiss Day.

When we were growing up, Valentine’s day was all we got! This build-up was missing.

That’s my husband, giving me roses even though I look as “un-glam” as it gets.

The roses are fake! Besides, they haven’t been washed in a month. I’ll have to drop them in the washing machine tomorrow.

So why do I look so happy?

Let’s rewind a little and see what had happened that morning. It makes me love the guy.

Picture of the blockage of our street. Photo by the author.

Our neighbor had dumped enough construction material on the street our home is on to block the road entirely.

I left my car in the middle of the street (on the side opposite to this one) and raced into the house — on foot — bawling for help. I had to be at work in half an hour and I was going to be late!

Picture of husband’s abandoned cup of tea — after he’d been up with the daughter who had the exam, too!

Knowing how late I would get if I tried to drive around the blocked street, my husband abandoned his still-steaming cup of tea to reverse my car and drive around the block to our home.

I was able to get to work exactly on time!

His tea was cold by the time he got back. He probably doesn’t realize it, but it is tiny sacrifices like these that make my Valentine’s week.

Note to self: wash the fake roses tomorrow! The younger kid — the one who has the exam, not the one who took the photo — has a dust allergy….

Who in the world buys artificial roses for decoration? They’re just dust traps. So how come I own fake flowers when they’re just another domestic chore to me? Well, the answer is sentiment.

On my last birthday, my husband was too busy to buy a gift, so he delegated the job to my assistant. She selected a vase and fake flowers and got them gift-wrapped for me. So I ended up owning a dust-trap, something I always try to avoid buying. Now I am stuck with them.

And casting practicality aside: Well, I still look happy in the picture when he surprised me with the roses on Rose Day. It was a nice moment. My daughter took that picture.