The Roses That They Are

One summer when I was in high school, my mom and I took the train to Iowa to visit my oldest brother. We went to a water park and I lathered up with sunscreen. Later that night or the next day, we discovered I was allergic to sunscreen. 

I was covered in hives and unbelievably itchy. From then on, I began buying a special, allergen-free baby sunscreen and I became very mindful of always having it with me for trips and outdoor activities, knowing that sharing is not always an option.

Last summer, as I was packing my bags for an out-of-state wedding, I looked at my travel toiletry bag, clocked the sunscreen, and decided to leave it to save space. Based on our schedule, I knew we’d be mostly moving from hotel to indoor venue back to hotel. I didn’t anticipate being outside much.

The morning after the wedding and the day we were to fly back, as temperatures climbed over three digits, our flight was cancelled. What to do with 24 additional hours in Omaha, Nebraska.

In my questionable packing, I’d brought a swimsuit (for the indoor pool at our hotel). I hadn’t anticipated going to the hotel where other guests and family were staying. The other hotel with the outdoor pool. I hadn’t anticipated swimming in the sun or going out in the afternoon to be tourists in the heat of the day.

All I could think of was the sunscreen sitting on my bathroom vanity. 

I weighed my options and decided discomfort was better than full body burn and rolled the dice with sunscreen from the hotel concierge. I didn’t fully breakout. But I was itchy for days.

As we got back to our apartment and our lives resumed to “normal,” my partner and I picked up on our (my) favorite nighttime routine of sharing our “Rose, Bud, Thorns.” (Rose, Bud, Thorn, for the uninitiated, is a camp game where you say your favorite part of the day (Rose); what you’re looking forward to tomorrow (Bud); and your least favorite part of the day (Thorn).)

Every day (for about 4 days) after we got back my Thorn was my skin. “I’m itchy!” I’d whine.

Eventually, however, it faded. And my Thorn became other things. And never once was my Rose clear skin.

How often we take for granted the Thorns that go away. 

How we forget to view them as the Roses that they are.