Wrinkled Thorns


She always left one rosebush alone. Let the flowers bloom as they wanted, curl and unfurl as they wanted, dry and droop as they wanted.

“It is an eyesore,” her mother-in-law criticized, ever eager to point out imperfections to the daughter she did not birth and that her son had chosen to love more than he ever did the one who’d labored to bring him into the world.

“Perhaps,” she smiled, but did not yield.

Thorns and wrinkled petals seemed fitting. Frosty resentment prevented closeness, but the old woman had given life to the man she loved. It was enough.



For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt: Dale Rogerson


56 thoughts on “Wrinkled Thorns

  1. Na’ama Y’karah,

    It sounds close to the relationship my mom had with paternal grandmother. Mom was never good enough for her son. Oy. I love the layers and things ‘written’ between the lines. Well done. But no less than I’ve come to expect.



    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Rochelle! 🙂 Yes, there are those who cannot let go, or won’t let go, or cannot tolerate happiness in others, or happiness that is not directly tied to them, or …
      And, this does sour the wine and can make life a misery that spreads.
      Here’s to doing better!
      Happy Almost Purim!


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