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You couldn\u2019t miss it.<\/p>\nYou couldn\u2019t miss it.<\/p>\n
A \u201dLook At Me\u201d shade of red seemed to be calling out from the brownish, trampled grass at the bottom of my building\u2019s back stairs.<\/p>\n
A few years ago, on December first,\u00a0 I saw a single red rose clinging to a black wrought iron fence around the parking lot of the kabob house down the street. The petals held on, as if by strength of will, vibrant in color, alone where cars made short appearances for quick dinner pick-ups; easy to overlook.<\/p>\n
I wondered: How could it survive in such an unkind environment? Didn\u2019t it know the season for blooming was over<\/em>?<\/p>\n I noticed this flower on the small patch of grass where my old Toyota slept like I noticed the rose at Noon-O-Kabob a few years ago, but something was different.<\/p>\n I marveled at the single red bloom here like I did years earlier. Was I entranced by the color? The audacity of calling attention to itself in such a way? \u00a0Its will to hold on to its petals into December? Its readiness or acceptance of living alone for this chapter in its life\u2019s journey; without a garden or other flowers or even tended ground cover nearby?<\/p>\n The bloom at the base of my building\u2019s back stairs was a different type of flower than the one I saw in the restaurant parking lot, but I am different too.<\/p>\n In many ways, I saw myself in both single late blooms.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not hard to take a second look at red carpet snapshots of Meryl Streep or Jane Fonda. Fonda is well into her eighties. Throughout their lives, they\u2019ve been very engaged in all sorts of projects, in personal explorations and growth. They were always<\/strong><\/em> considered beautiful.<\/p>\n When I saw the rose, I liked the thought of peaking late in life, of coming into my own individual brand of beauty. There was nothing to compare myself to. No other flowers shared a mound of dirt with me. There was no one else like me, right? \u00a0I just had to learn how to take things in their own time.<\/p>\n But I wanted conventional things. Some sort of audience for the words or thoughts I\u2019d fling out into the universe. I wanted to have good credit and better health. Maybe a small circle of people who\u2019d encourage my adventurous side. New cashmere sweaters from time to time.<\/p>\n But I feel differently now. I don\u2019t seem to be as concerned with being \u201cnoticed.\u201d<\/p>\n I suppose part of me still wants an audience, But I know I do what I do because I need to. It\u2019s natural to me. I have been growing less concerned with being noticed.<\/p>\n I know this quote by author and educator William Watson Purkey has been posterized more often than pop-up deals for vacation travel appear on the NYT \u2013 Online. \u201cYou\u2019ve\u00a0 gotta dance like there\u2019s nobody watching.\u201d<\/p>\n The red flower I saw at the bottom of my back stairs this week doesn\u2019t care if it’s noticed or not. It\u2019s beautiful anyway.<\/p>\n Knowing that you are beautiful, regardless of worldly successes and failures, regardless of being NOTICED, is no small thing.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" You couldn\u2019t miss it. A \u201dLook At Me\u201d shade of red seemed to be calling…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9253,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[632],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9252","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-weekly-blog","grateful-dozen-beauty"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n