Every Rose has its Thorn

Part 7

August 9th, 1961
one month later

+ + +

It was sunrise and I was sitting in the middle of the empty field I had kissed Rita at for the first time. Or at least that's what I thought of when I got here.

There was a view of hills in the distance that were in front of the rising sun. Along those was a small farm a good distance from me, but I could still see it.

The weather had gotten cooler since It's fall time now. Routines around the farm are going to change slightly for the new season.

Scout was with me and he was running around the field and sniffing around at things or digging in the dirt. Every now and then when he got tired he'd come sit next to me for a while then go back to running.

I think dogs are pretty good at reading peoples emotions. I don't know how, but they seem to be the best at it.

I still felt like a fool that I was still weeping over Rita. It had been three months after all. To be honest, i'm still not exactly used to the change. I'm used to seeing her almost every evening or going over to her family's farm to help out sometimes.

It was weird. The farm next to us that used to be packed of animals and crops was now ghost town. Not a single soul was there.

We have heard the owners of the division were talking about tearing their farm down and building some sort of factory in place of it. They said we could keep our farm next to it. But I guess they don't know it would be damaging to have a factory so close to our farm that has nothing to do with our farm business and also so close to our animals.

I just hoped they wouldn't do that. But i'm not in control.

I'm a kind of person that finds change hard I guess. It's weird when you're so used to something and one day it has to change. Even when that change impacts your life and your daily routine pretty much.

But even as I had told Rita. Everything happens for a reason.

Maybe she was made for the city all along. Maybe happier there. I could only hope things are better for them there.

Though it's been a while now, I still feel the pain like a knife that cuts you after the wound heals. But the scar remains.

After a while I got up and walked around the field. There was an area by the crowd of trees of different bushes and plants. I noticed a small rose bush.

I could tell the roses were freshly bloomed and they were real pretty.

A few months ago if I would've found these roses, I would pick every one and take them to Rita knowing they were her favorite.

I know I could've saved a love that night before she left if I'd known what to say. But I know now she had found somebody new and I'd never meant that much to her.

I reached over to the rose bush and went to pick a rose. Right as I got hold of it, a sharp thorn on the rose caught me by surprise. My thumb felt sore. This time I went to grab it, but carefully this time, missing the thorns.

I then heard a voice next to me which caught me by surprise.

"Careful with those roses. Those ones have the worse thorns."

I looked next to me to a girl that seemed about my age with a sweet smile on her face.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you come over here."

She chuckled. "Sorry about that. My names Chelsea Scarlett."

I met her eyes and noticed how pretty she was. She had rosy cheeks and tawny blonde hair with a light colored cowboy hat on.

"Weston Walker. Nice to meet you." I realized I had never seen her around before. "Where are you from?" I asked, shaking her hand.

"I'm from that farm down there at the bottom of the hill. We'd built that farm and moved here about two months ago."

"You guys from around here?"

"No, we're originally from Arkansas. How about you?"

"Lived here my whole life." I chuckled.

"Well you might have to show me the ropes of Mississippi. It's taking me a while to figure it all out as a down town girl."

"I'd be happy too."

I looked down at the rose in my hand then handed it to Chelsea.

"Oh, thank you." She smiled. I smiled back.

Sometimes someone you love can become only a memory. But then when you meet someone new, everything can become different.

I guess because,

Every rose,

has its thorn.