I come from a family of rose lovers. My mother adored them red, while my aunt had a weakness for the white type.
When I was a kid, there were several rose bushes in our yard. One of them kept growing beautiful flowers, even when we forgot to water it for a while.
One year, the bush was so withered and ready to crumble that my mother decided to get rid of it. But lo and behold, a bud appeared the following day. And before we knew it, flowers were back.
This memory explains why I like roses so much. They are resilient and will flaunt their beauty even when the end is near.
