Rosa's Gift

Everyday Rosa carries the beautiful crystal vases filled with fragrant purple roses up the paths to the guest’s private villas. Each rose is inspected for flaws before being delivered. Rosa feels that she is fortunate to be the one that folds the guests silk sheeted beds down each evening, the one that fluffs their overstuffed pillows and leaves the mints on the delicately embroidered doilies. After all good jobs are hard to come by in her homeland and the place she is working at now would be considered a palace in Mexico. A palace, Rosa would not be allowed access to, even if it were just to keep it clean. Stepping into bungalow 1253 Rosa sat the beautiful vase of roses on a table in the bedroom. She began to arrange the roses so they would fully bloom. Rosa remembered the time that one of the guests had given her a few of the roses to take home. She gave them to her wheelchair bound mother who had never seen purple roses and had only heard about places as beautiful as the one Rosa worked at each day.     Rosa never married or had any children. She was the eldest daughter in her family and that made the care of their mother her responsibility. Her face was void of smile lines or crows feet from years without expression, and her face remained in a constant state of puffiness from sleep depravation due to her mother’s need for constant care. Her back had became severely curved over time from both the weight of her heavy buxom and all the stooping her job required. Her hands were weathered from all the scrubbing they had done over the years. No time had not been kind to Rosa.  The miles she has traveled from Mexico to the United States were more than just physical ones though. Rosa had to learn enough English to inquire about work, and read well enough to figure out witch bus to catch and where it would take her. Her new country had many obstacles, but this did not keep her from her dream. A dream of a land where if you worked hard and spent wisely you could have a roof over your head, food to eat and some money saved for a few of life’s luxuries. Rosa felt that life was good and that her life was even better than most people’s lives. She appreciated what she had and excepted what she did not have as God’s will.   She sat down on the end of the bed and laid back on it just to know its comfort. Her bed was old and second hand, but Rosa knew others that had no bed at all. She slipped off her shoes and ran her toes through the high piled carpet to feel its warmth and softness. She had a few scattered rug pieces in her home, that her nephew working for a rug factory, gave her a few years ago to cover her cracked concrete floors with, but she was glad to have a rug at all for she knew people with dirt floors.  Rosa realized that most of the guestrooms she readied each day remained unused. The beautiful flowers she placed in them unnoticed. She lay on the bed thinking, could there be a place greater than this? No she thought. There could not be, for she could not imagine any place better than here. And still she had a heavy heart for those who stayed in the villas and did not realize their great fortune to be guests in such a place. They did not seem to appreciate all the beauty and luxury that surrounded them and this made Rosa sad.   She stood up and walked over to the roses and brushed their delicate petals across the tips of her fingers to feel their velvety touch. Then she walked back outside and wheeled in her cart of fresh towels and toiletries. She opened the curtains and flooded the room with sunshine. And as she began dusting off the countertops a song sprang to her lips. She began singing in her native tongue “Each person in their place, a place for each person, in God’s eyes we are all the same and in light of imperfection there is room for direction if we would only love each other in his name. “  The wind began to blow through the room and Rosa heard the angels chime in with her song. Her chest swelled with happiness, a happiness that brought her peace. A peace she got from knowing her role in life was that of the one who brought the purple roses to those that needed them most, the ones who did not notice that they were there.