Almost Perfect

The other day I picked my first roses from the garden. This one was particularly stunning and yet it wasn't perfect. Two of the petals were slightly sunburned, but I didn't for a moment think about tossing this flower. Instead, those brown tinges were a part of its beauty. And it occurred to me that here was a perfect metaphor for those stories that are unfolding in my head.



I want to put them on the page so they're as beautiful and as colorful and exciting as possible.



Will they ever be pe...