Roofing It, Uncomplainingly

 I LOVE my new bright red roof. Just what I always wanted, just like a li'l ole Red Roof Inn, only brighter. Am I ready to be an Airhead B & B, or whatever? Not.  Totally changes the look of the house, something I'll have to get used to, and I'll have fun doing that too. Why, when I built the house fifteen years ago I settled for dull flat black shingles is way beyond me. Expense, possibly. The work took half a day longer than they promised me, which kept my cats away all weekend, frightening me. The careless fools killed my big, beautiful poinsettia which grew next to the driveway, my mother's last gift to me before she died, and they hid the evidence. If only the sneaky bastards had at least save the plant for m, I might have tried a valiant last ditch rescue, or might have saved some leaves, and with it, more of my mother's memory. I thought about a lawsuit, or a large discount. I was angry. But then the cats came home, albeit a bit belatedly. And the poinsettia, well, the roots are still there, presumably healthy, beneath the dirt. And there remains a stubby stump of a main stem above, perhaps a harbinger of future life. I cleared a space around it, a circle of pure dirt, and watered the stump, lovingly, hopefully. My mother's soul, perhaps. With TLC and a bit of divine providence, who knows? My mother's final gift to me may yet thrive, may grow back big and healthy, just as my  memory of my dearly beloved mother thrives, and always will.And I stand in the front yard, looking up at my beautiful roof as my sweet kitties romp and frolic around the yard, and the poinsettia stump basks in the late summer sun, and I think;  altogether, haven't I been very fortunate? Can I not simply accept my good fortune, and rejoice in it? I can, I know as I pour day old cat drinking water on my beloved stump, and refill the cat water bowl, with fresh, pure water.