The rose and the bird

For the longest time I have wanted to get a tattoo of a yellow rose. Before I was born my mother gave birth to boy, his name was Aaron Bard Adlon. Sadly he did nothing live to be more than a day old. Every sense I can remember, my father would always come home on that date (February tenth, twelve days before my birthday and seventeen days before my mothers) with yellow roses for my mother. Years later I would join a fraternity who's flower was a white rose. This flower represents brotherhood, something god blessed me with, not through a blood brother, but through the brotherhood of men joined by love, truth, and honor. Then a few years ago, my greatgrandmother (my mothers grandmother) passed away. Everyone in the family knew that she loved bird watching in her later years and her favorite bird was a gold finch (I believe, I know it was a bright yellow bird). I always find a strange connection in that my father buys my mother yellow roses for my brother, my greatgrandmother's favorite bird was yellow and that yellow has always been my favorite color. It's odd how we can find connections between the little things in life.