A belated thank you, Rose

I am probably one of the few older women in the world that misses PMS. My form was hyperactivity that I channeled into chores that seemed too onerous during the rest of the month. My roommates loved it and had lists of things for me to do when I realized that now was the moment that ceiling needed washing with a toothbrush and a small one at that.

Today I had one of those surges and I took that moment to go through everything. Now I tend to be fanatic about how clean my place is, but I do skip corners. One of those corners was the area under the kitchen divider where I hide my flour, sugar, and some spices. Since this was the day I was going to reorganize every possession I own, it was the first time that I’ve pulled everything out.

I saw a thin package wrapped in brown paper, tied with red ribbon and marked “From Rose with Love.”

I open it to find a book called “Thank You For Your Hospitality.” Each page has an impressionist painting by Henri Le Sidaner’s home, rooms that make you want to sit down on the chairs and have a cup as you look out the windows at the countryside beyond. Rose and I did so much of that during her visit last year. I am looking forward to her return this year.

The book is incredibly beautiful. I alternate between being embarrassed I hadn’t found/opened it before and delighting in its art work as I drink yet another cup of tea and think of the good memories we created and the new ones coming up.