Photos and Text by: Corey Amaro
Roses and lace, I cannot cut.
How can I make the curtain, if I don't cut the lace?
How can I make rose jam, if I don't cut the roses?
Standing under the cascade of roses in our courtyard, I hold up the clippers and face the challenge.
Annie tells me that shaking the rose bush and gathering the fallen petals is not how it is done. "They need to be fresh, cut by mid morning, before they release their morning perfume."
My clipper doesn't move, while I stand in awe, drinking in their beauty.
The thought of rose jam cannot shake my attitude.
Then without warning or thoughtful direction my mind wanders towards a memory, another place and time:
My father is sitting on the couch, I am standing behind him. He turns around and said to me, "Corey, do you truly love Yann that much, that you are willing to give up your life here at home and move to France? Think about it, you are leaving everything behind: Your home, your family, your work, your friends, your lifestyle… your language… Giving up everything like Jesus, for the sake of love."
I remember laughing, and saying, "Like Jesus?"
He looked at me, not sharing the humor in his words, and then I saw his loving concern: Could I make the cut?
I remember thinking that if I thought of it, weighed it out like my father was saying, I would never be able to say yes to Yann.
Instead I took a leap of faith, I followed my heart, and later I realized the depth of my decision.
There were times I regretted leaving my family, times where the cut was a fresh wound, times I wondered why I ever moved away, and, over time, have come to see that is only natural to feel those (these) feelings. Love is never cut and dry. It is an adventure, a journey, a life made whole.
Then as suddenly as that memory came up, it went away.
The roses remain staring me in the face.
The clipper in hand.
Annie looking at me, "Alors?"
The first cut, as they say is the deepest, and for me without regret.
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