The bushes in Gram’s backyard are exploding with blooms; their sweet fragrance filling the yard. The living room seems alive with the scent thanks to the bowl full of blooms on the table. She has them there without fail as long as the season lasts. These roses signify love, belonging and being home to me. A staple of my childhood memories of my Gram. Years later, having freshly completed cancer treatment, I lay in bed and ask for a sign that I will survive, that I am on the right path. I decide that whatever the first thing that pops in my head is will be the sign I look for as confirmation. My eyes are closed as I snuggle in bed and the first image in my mind's eye is the wild rose. An immediate wave of comfort washes over me and I smile as I think of Gram’s rose bowl; I can smell them in the air and feel my body respond by relaxing. The wild rose is also the provincial flower of Alberta. I have just moved to Calgary, AB despite my doctor's advice. This is the right path, this is my destiny, and I know I am going to survive.