"Two wrongs may not make a right but a thousand wrongs make a writer.”

Saturday, March 2, 2024

The Uprooting

The fate of a rose planted by my grandmother a hundred years ago released by Flapper Press



The Flapper Press is a literary magazine of Useful Words, Inspiring Stories, and Eclectic Perspectives and I'm very happy to be a part of it.


Also shared with Poets and Storytellers's "Lasting Impressions". No one makes more lasting ones than mothers and grandmothers.  




16 comments:

Helen said...

YOU are a lovely writer!!!!!

Yvonne Osborne said...

Helen,
Thank you so much. So are you. I appreciate you and getting to know you. Thanks also for reading my newsletter! Maybe someday we'll meet. I'd recognize you across a room!!

Rajani said...

Congratulations Yvonne.. that was such an excellent piece. Enjoyed reading it.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Beautifully written! And so poignant.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Rajani,
Thank you so much for commenting.

Rosemary,
Thank you. I'm glad you liked it. Reading it makes me sad all over again. Sometimes I wonder why I keep doing this to myself.

Anthony Duce said...

So enjoyed the story.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Thanks Tony!!!
I appreciate that.

Magaly Guerrero said...

Love the vivid descriptions. I felt the sense of loss the demolition brought--even when these sorts of things might be necessary, they hurt so very much... Still, I'm keeping my fingers crossed and my heart open for roses.

jossina said...

I wanted mother to know..... even I was like that......a darkness over the yard ....... I enjoyed the write with the subtleties

Yvonne Osborne said...

Magaly,
Thank you for commenting. The hurt is always there but wouldn't it be wonderful if the rose took off?

Jossina,
Thank you!! I think we all share the hope that mother knows/knew what we felt and did. But all the words left unspoken loom in the dark.

Jemi Fraser said...

You evoke such emotion with your words. Here's to future blooms!

Liza said...

Yvonne, I loved The Uprooting. Beautifully written. My father grew many roses. In his honor I I struggle to keep a few of my own alive. They don't get the morning sun they need and become leggy. I fertilize them, chase down aphids and Japanese beetles, but only get a few blooms. I always cut the first one and put it in a small vase on the table in memory of my dad, who used to bring them into his office and place them on his desk. Thank you for inspiring a lovely memory.

Vanessa Victoria Kilmer said...

Such a bittersweet story. Even for plants, change is so hard. I hope it learns to love you as much as your grandmother.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Indeed, Jemi!! Thank you so much,

Liza,
I'm so glad you liked it. That's lovely memory of your dad and a lovely tribute to him. Growing roses is tricky but that first bloom is always worth it. My mother loved them, much as your father must have. Thanks for commenting.

Vanessa,
Thank you. Such a nice sentiment. I appreciate it.

Marja said...

Congrats worth the publication of this beautiful story. It motivates me to go into the garden

Yvonne Osborne said...

Marja,
Thank you so much. Let's garden!