Roses

A soft, spring sun seeps playfully through the bedroom’s lace curtains, waking me with its soothing warmth. Smiling gleefully I open my eyes to the pale morning light and the familiar sight of my bed stand, digital alarm clock and bedside lamp. A copy of ‘This Charming Man’ stands propped against the lamp and the clock reads 09:30. Stretching as much as the bed will allow, I shift my weight and turn, facing the window and my boyfriend Trent’s side of the bed.1

Oddly, for this time of the morning, Trent is absent and in his place sits a single red rose, unaccompanied, lying in the centre of his pillow. Propping myself up on my left elbow I pick the rose up with my right hand, holding it daintily between my thumb and forefinger. Smiling, I pull myself to a seating position and stare bleary-eyed around the room; Still no sign of Trent.2

Swinging my legs out of the bed I slip my feet into my ever waiting slippers and haul myself over to the wardrobe. From its usual place I withdraw my dressing gown and pull it on over my pyjamas. Tying the draw string my hand brushes against something soft in the left pocket and I reach deep to draw out a second red rose, placing it on the bed beside the first.3

A final glance in the en suite for Trent, and the recovery of a third rose on the sink, I leave the bedroom with my gifts in hand. A fourth rose awaited my exit onto the landing, positioned resting in the bowl ornament on the windowsill while a fifth mirrors its grace beside the telephone at the foot of the stairs.4

Feeling excited now, I find a sixth rose tied to the handle of the kitchen door with a pink ribbon and as I detach it carefully I can hear the faint rustle of Trent beyond. The coffee maker hums its merry song and I hear the unmistakable “fffst” of the fridge door closing before the milk bottle is placed on the counter. Quietly, and taking a deep breath I push down on the handle and enter the kitchen.5

Sitting on the table, right in the centre there is a short, glass vase with a further six roses wrapped in more pink ribbon standing proud within. Dropping the six I already have onto the table I sweep over to Trent, wrapping my arms around his waste, startling him a little. “Good morning,” I chime.6

“Morning Buttons,” he replies, turning in my arms to embrace me, “I’m gland you’re finally awake.” A smile spreads wonderfully across his face as he speaks these words. Abruptly he releases his hold, motioning me to sit at the table while at the same time filling a second vase with water and placing it, along with my gathered roses beside the first.7

“They’re beautiful,” I find myself commenting as I pick the pink ribbon from the door handle up to wrap the second six into a bouquet like the first. Watching from near the sink he calls for me to tie them just as he has the first. Obediently, smiling, I reach forward to examine the first bouquet when something glistens, catching my eye and stopping my heart mid-beat. Adrenaline beginning to rise I pull the roses from their vase and swiftly Trent is by my side, taking them from me. Deftly he pulls one end of the ribbon loose, catching the ring as he does so in his left hand. His smile broadening he turns to me and drops to one knee; I nearly faint.8

“Emily,” he begins, “it’s hard to believe that we’ve been together this long, yet I find it hard to remember a time without you in my life. For the last year all I’ve thought about is spending the rest of my life with you but I haven’t been able to think of a way to ask you this.” He takes a deep breath, steadying his nerves though his hands are still shaking. 9

“Will you marry me?”10

As I sit here, still dressed in my bed cloths, only one word comes to my lips…11

“Yes.”