Roses are Red…

Red is the color of love, passion, rage, and warmth. It’s the color of a sunset and of a beating heart. Red is the color of our lives.

My first childhood home was made of brick…a rusty warm red. I remember the little red bugs that I’ve only ever seen bustling down the brick walkway. To me, that color will always be home. Seeing someone wearing that brick red to this day comforts me and I’m compelled to compliment them on their selection. My sister seems to have the same calling. In our parents’ house, most walls are a shade of white, except my sister’s room. Allegedly, she found the old cans of paint in the garage. She mixed them to create a lovely shade of brick red created from the paints in the basement. And to me, it evokes such a feeling of warmth.

It’s true that often red is associated with roses. But so many artists and writers have embraced the color. I can’t help but remember Monet’s Poppy Field and John McCrae’s In Flanders Field. Red truly is a metaphor for love. Just like an act of love, one red rose can’t be ignored. Just like love, there are different shades of red and each affects us differently. Just like love, many of us tend to be a bit fearful of red–afraid it will overpower us and our homes. But to exclude passion from our lives would be to deprive ourselves of something wonderful.