A Bowl of Roses or Putting the Pieces Back Together

In late June of 2019, our rose bush was a wild tumble of hot pink blooms. My husband Jeff credited the bumper crop to the rabbit food he'd used as fertilizer. Seriously. When it came time to deadhead, I gathered a pile of petals for an impromptu photo shoot. The resulting images felt like a metaphor for our life. Maybe not a bowl of roses but a very bright, full life. 

We had plans to go to Ireland in early July, and a week at the Santa Fe Photographic Workshops scheduled for later that month. Granddaughter Sabina was due in August and a trip to see friends and family in Southern California was booked for the fall. Summer and fall rolled out, mostly according to plan.  

By Thanksgiving we were welcoming my stepson Ben and his partner Matt for the holiday. Our feast was wonderful—full of good food, wine and lots of laughter. The very next day things changed in a matter of moments. My leg was badly broken in a freak car accident. I remember the next few months as endless physical therapy sessions with a few visits to the trauma surgeon to break up the tedium. Jeff took amazing care of me and by February we were going out to dinner with friends, me in my orthopedic boot. My sister Dianne came to visit, and we went to hear Lyle Lovett in concert on Valentine's Day. 

Anyone reading this knows what happened in March 2020. Like the rest of the world, we stayed home, Zooming for classes and cocktails. I kept up the physical therapy, but my leg did not heal. By August I was scheduled for a second surgery, just two weeks after Jeff's hip replacement.This time, my daughter-in-law Veronica created a thoughtful care package full of distractions including a puzzle made from one of my rose petal images. Post-surgery the most I could manage were Audible books and Netflix. I put the 520-piece puzzle in the cabinet for another day. 

This week as we finally reached full vaccination status, I had a concept. I would pull out the puzzle and take photos of it as I progressed toward completion—a new metaphor. While the puzzle box said Age 9+, I spent hours not getting very far. I couldn't interest my nine-year old neighbor in helping me. Jeff put a few pieces together, then left me on my own.  

Luckily, the pieces of real life are coming back together far more easily than my puzzle. We had our first dinner out with friends inside a restaurant since last March and in the morning we will take off for a week-long road trip to Colorado. It's been more than 20 months since our last trip, but compared to the puzzle, it's not much of a challenge to pack a bag. I am good to go.