The Smell of Roses
Egypt, 2024
Do you remember the smell of roses? I have for years tried to recall it. The roses that are nowadays sold in The Netherlands and many other countries are beautiful, but they no longer smell like the roses from my childhood. I thought I remembered their smell. I didn’t. My memory didn’t even come close.
Recently, in Egypt, a neighbor rang the doorbell of a friend’s apartment. Handing me a bouquet of roses, he used a hand gesture to clarify his words. He thought I understood him, and I thought so too. Once I had closed the door, I realized that I didn’t. Our communication was taking place with a few Arabic words on my end and a flow of fast-spoken Arabic words on his end, of which I didn’t grasp much. Was the hand gesture his way of asking me to take the roses to my friend, who had a broken ankle? Was he telling me that he was delivering the flowers to me on behalf of someone else? Or was he using the hand gesture to underline his words?
Either way, the intoxicating smell of the colorful bouquet of roses soon filled the house. It brought a smile to my face, and I could feel a happiness within me just by breathing in the magical smell. This was not about seeing the beauty of the flowers with my eyes. This was about feeling them. Their perfume stirred something within. It made my heart shine.
It reminded me of the rose bush I bought a few years ago. It was planted on the land of my partner’s father, along with some fruit trees. While the trees flourished, the roses soon withered and the bush was fighting for dear life. I could feel the life seeping out of it. The bush was energetically ignored and - unconsciously - sabotaged by the owner of the land, as was our relationship. The bush shriveled and our relationship ended, despite the love I gave it.
Back then, I had closed the door to my heart to protect myself. In a split second, the bouquet of roses had brought back that beautiful warm feeling of love. Not the kind of love for someone specific, but the love for life and for all that is. It was as if the door to my heart had been opened again. I felt more alive and connected than I had in a long time.
It is for good reason that roses are called the flowers of love.
Inshallah[1], the intoxicating smell of roses may touch and open many more hearts.
[1] Inshallah is the Arabic word for God willing, which you can also read as ‘if it is meant to be’.