A Rose By Any Other Name

 

  I was walking with my daughter and granddaughter down at the cannery a few weeks ago. It was cold but sunny  and a little exercise was just what the doctor ordered to shake off the feeling of cabin fever. I looked down at the gravel on the beach and noticed splashes of color scattered along the shoreline by the water's edge. Kaylahni also noticed it and started picking up flowers that had washed ashore. I'm not sure where they came from. Obviously someone had tossed them into the water- I assume after the flowers had pretty much already wilted. However, that didn't stop my granddaughter from gathering them up. I wasn't sure that it was a good idea to do that. What if the flowers were from a memorial service somewhere? However, Jen didn't seem to have a problem with it, so for the remainder of the walk the mostly dead flowers made the rounds with us. I assumed that they would get tossed once we got to the car, but no, they were transported all the way home and into a vase with water. Apparently some of the flowers were still good, so why get rid of them? Jen is one of these people who wants to get the maximum use out of everything. She had a three wheeled stroller she used to push Kaylahni in. The kid was like four years old with her legs hanging out over the side and her hands dragging on the ground. The wheels were starting to buckle from the weight and still she insisted on pushing her around. I was almost embarrassed to be seen walking with her. The Jack O' Lantern that was carved ten days before Halloween can still be seen on her porch at Thanksgiving, it's features having sagged into a lumpy, pulpy mess. Heaven forbid that it should get tossed if you can still see some orange coloration. I dropped by Jen's for a cup of coffee the other day and she mentioned that all the flowers in the vase were dead now. Of course she hadn't removed them yet. I don't know why, perhaps she's waiting until I die so she can use them one last time.