NOVEMBER ROSES

It is becoming increasingly harder for both of us each time he goes out of town. The weather is growing colder and I am reminded I need to turn the heat up to warm this little house.


He misses me, and the dogs, and the life we’ve made together here on the lake.

I miss him not being here when I close my eyes at night and when I open them again each morning. I miss his loud booming voice, his big mouth, which is only surpassed by the size of his heart.

But most of all, I will miss the November roses.

We both understand what we signed on for, taking new directions and accepting new positions in life at this late stage in the game. We’re both in careers that are youth oriented, his more so than mine, and don’t take kindly to those seemingly just dropping in. The time is now, the moment fleeting. There are no second chances once the merry go round has begun.


At feeding times, the boys look up at me from their bowls as they slurp the last of the food from ceramic dishes. Their eyes search the kitchen, the once-around-the-parameter glance for which they are known, and question me silently, “Is he back yet?”

I don’t begrudge him his success and the fact that he has to be on the road to achieve it. He’s worked hard to get where he is, and we all reap the fruits of his labor. He is truly, gloriously happy. Sometimes I go with him, but often times I stay home to handle the day to day, plus tend to my own career, the kids and the mundane. It’s what I was made to do and I do it well.

This summer brought us unusually stormy and wet weather, and not much time for tending our gardens. We were surprised with the arrival of three shiny orange pumpkins that we pampered like houseguests who rolled the dice and decided to stay. They seemed to fertilize and energize everything around them.

The rose bushes given to us as wedding gifts four years ago (its seems so much longer!) have steadily grown and produced glorious blossoms. Even now, during these unseasonably warm first days of November, they stand straight in vases throughout the house, reminding me that he was here and will be home again, soon.

While the autumn leaves fall to the ground, a yellow and gold rustling carpet greets me as I open the door to view the lake. As the sunlight shines through the kitchen window, I know he is looking up at the same sun when opening his eyes, remembering the last of the November roses he left on the table for me, a promise of love and many more tomorrows.