Much Ado About Roses

My boyfriend, being the absolute charmer that he is, sent me a dozen red roses for Valentines Day. Nobody’s ever given me flowers for Valentines Day before. Someone once gave me an artichoke for Valentines Day, though. While I’ll admit it was delicious, I don’t think it really compares to roses.

Anyways, given the evanescence of organic roses (if you don’t spray them with preservatives, they really don’t preserve…) I find myself, a few days later, wondering what to do with them.

Part of me wants to keep them forever and ever and ever because I’m in love. So rarely have I been given flowers, I’ve always dried them nicely, piling the aromatic lavender and middle school carnations in with the roses and baby’s breath from high school prom…and they are a royal pain to move. Imagine you’re packing a car full of boxes to drive a hundred miles away, and then you remember you’ve got long-stem memories made of dried tissue paper, ready to crumble at the slightest touch.

(By the way, if you’re wondering what kind of prom date I was, the answer is awkward. “I’ve always thought it was weird that they called it baby’s breath. You know, ‘cause it doesn’t smell anything like spit up or applesauce.” My date just gave me one of those You’re-Lucky-You’re-Pretty looks.)

All that aside, I’ve decided that I ought to press them. They take up infinitely less space that way, and then I’ll stumble onto them intermittently for years to come as I revisit the books I pressed them in. They’re much more rosebuds than full-on blossoms though, so it’s hard to press something that’s three dimensional. Fortunately, I saved all my math textbooks from college. Even as an English major, I knew I would need them later on in life for something. Mostly, I’ve just been collecting the petals as they fall and independently pressing them into all my favorite books and the ones I’ve been meaning to read. I’m sure I’ll forget I’ve done this, and routinely be surprised by the memory of this Valentines Day whenever I get around to reading and rereading those books on my shelf. Books and roses are a perfect combination anyways.

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