Stop and Steal The Roses
There they were again.
As I drove into the neighbor’s parking spot, about to reverse, my car’s hood met a bouquet of fuchsia roses.
Still in their plastic wrapping, they rested on an empty garbage pail, a lone pop of color in an otherwise dismal parking garage.
Every time I got up close, before backing into my spot and unloading kids or groceries (or both!) from the car, I entertained a different origin story:
Were they left by a disgruntled wife, for whom flowers didn’t cut it after a fight?
Allergies?
Did the giver get cold feet and ditch a grand gesture of love?
By day three of Operation Flower Sighting, I started to feel bad for the bouquet. What a waste of beauty! I couldn’t bear to watch its slow wilt every time I came home from an errand.
I text my neighbor in Hebrew, casual.
“Hey, what’s the deal with those flowers in your parking spot?”
And then, “I’m just curious lol!” so I’d sound less “ratchet”, in the words of my teen.
“No clue. I found them thrown near my car, so I put them on the trash”, she responds.
“You’re welcome to them!”
And that was how, in stealth, I grabbed the bouquet and prayed said neighbor wouldn’t be in the elevator.
She wasn’t, and before long, fresh-cut roses graced my dining room table.
And God knew I could use them.
See, before the flowers… before the war… before attempting to Pesach clean while managing Zoom school for 3 kids…
My husband’s hybrid car died.
It was the end of an era. But, we chalked it up to “life happens”- first-world problems.
We couldn’t even complain. Some people in Israel don’t even have one car, so we were grateful to have my, although more gas-guzzling, SUV.
Then, I got fired from my dream job of 6 years.
I know the PC term is “laid off”, especially since it was along with 30 others. (Due to AI rendering copywriting obsolete.)
But, guess what?
A rose by any other name…
It still sucks. I still lost my paycheck, my feeling of purpose, my beloved advertising family.
Ever the optimist, I’d have loved to take “funemployment” for a spin, but I never got to find out what that feels like.
Because BOOM, pun intended, Iran War 2.0 was upon us.
I went from having a hearing during my Purim Seuda…
to trading my corporate job for the role of Chief Zoom Class Executer.
One of which takes place on the work computer they signed me out of, and I need to return!
With no school in sight until after Pesach (at least) and kids home all day –
alternating between avoiding Zooms and running for cover during constant missile attacks –
I’d take my hour-and-a-half commute to the office any day.
Yet, like the car and the job loss, “be grateful” echoes in my mind.
This round of war, my husband was thankfully NOT called up to miluim (reserve duty).
Imagine how hard it would be to work under these conditions! And clean for Pesach! You’re so lucky, you don’t need to request vacation days for Chol Hamoed!
“This is a blessing in disguise”, I remind myself.
Or others do.
Up next in the Series of Unfortunate Events I’m choosing to share, my dear friends and neighbors need to move.
Thank God, they’re still in the neighborhood. And other wonderful friends are taking over their lease. How can I complain?! What a gift!
On Shabbos, my daughter falls off a merry-go-round in the park and sprains her hand.
“AT LEAST IT ISN’T BROKEN!” That darned voice echoes nonetheless.
My husband watches all this toxic positivity turn me POSITIVELY grumpy.
Silent, he sees me struggle to get out of bed and put the kids on Zoom.
Takes note of my mascara-smeared eyes and unbrushed hair…
…My once-neat desk looking like it took a hit from one of those ballistic missiles.
“You need a girls’ night. Take some time for YOU. Process everything.”
“Ha!”, I reply.
I probably yelled it.
Who’s volunteering to ditch their family in wartime and join my pity party?
As always, he wasn’t wrong.
It’s nice to find silver linings. But if you never acknowledge the cloud in front of them, you’ll be too drenched by the storm to appreciate the light.
When my family came home and saw the beautiful vase of flowers, each of them asked, “Who got you those flowers?”
“Hashem”, I replied.
He knew I could use a little pick-me-up. And lift me up they did.
If anything, smelling them gets me to take a deep breath.
And every time I admire those heavenly blooms, I remind myself:
The same Divine Plan that made me lose my car, my job, my sanity, and my safety…
also left me a bouquet of hot pink roses in the parking lot.
