{it ain’t all roses, honey}

It ain’t all roses, Honey. ~Grandma Rene

My paternal grandmother was one of the most tenacious women I have ever known. Tenacious, that is how I learned to describe being {what most people call} stubborn and mean. Because most people {say they} want roses: niceties and polite conversations.

I have always been grateful for my {stubborn and mean} familial heritage; I have always treasured it and kept it close — like a sparkly-jeweled badge. I don’t apologize for it.

I have apologized for it.

There have been times when I attempted to wrap this get-real, razor-edged side of me in layers of “polite quilted cotton.” Because people I was in-relationship with {professionally and personally} labeled it, undesirable: being curt; insensitive; hard-hearted. Because people tend to want Life to hand them proverbial rose bouquets; to be pretty … like a rose.

But Life is like a rose …

Yesterday I abided with friends via text messages and e-mails. Each one facing a situation, the kind we resist. The situations in which we do what we must until we can do what we choose. Situations that are both beautiful and tender … but held by razor-thorned stem.

It will all work out; Rome wasn’t built in a day. ~Mimi

That is what my maternal grandmother would say to me when I was in the midst of “roses” — making decisions and what-iffing my life … She was always there for me; her presence more than enough to comfort me. She, too, was tenacious.

just remember in the winter
far beneath the bitter snow
lies the seed, that with the sun’s love
in the Spring, becomes the rose.
~Bette Midler, The Rose

Spring will come for my beloved kindreds. It comes for all of us … Until then, let’s sit close with snacks and magazines. Let’s be gut-honest and resist apologizing for what could have been and what we didn’t know. Because blooming is hard work, Braveheart. And it always comes with thorny realities.

After all, that is what makes us ~~tenacious~~ stubborn and mean.