I paused yesterday afternoon for a few moments to appreciate to the red roses pictured on your left, a series of out-of-season blossoms from a rose bush that I may have tricked into thinking it is still growing season by extra watering. It had been a stressful and depressing week, and for a brief few moments the red roses seemed to auger the possibility of a period of better days. I walked into the house to find my camera to record the moment, and as I snapped a few pictures I heard the sound of an approaching vehicle in need of exhaust work. It turned out to be an older model red pickup truck, and there were about five young men in the cab and the truck bed.
"Nice shirt you are wearing, faggot!" was the first words I heard, the jeering clown referencing the formal clothing I was wearing to go to a funeral a little later. Then the stupidity of the brave idiot was joined by other similar drivel from the
My first instinct was to throw down a challenge to the morons, but I thought that this course of action was pointless. At best I would just end up in a verbal exchange with a group of quasi-Neanderthals, and the worst case scenario would be that they would return in the middle of the night and vandalize my property.
So I watched the laughing fools drive off, continuing to shout at random people they encountered. I suspect that alcohol may have fueled the impulsivity and recklessness of the teenagers, but I was mostly disappointed in the disruption of my Zen moment. Yet the irritation soon passed, and the beauty of the red roses remained. I could choose to hold on to my resentment, or I could spend a few more minutes enjoying the warm fall afternoon with the unexpected pleasure of brilliant red roses.
I chose the latter.
