By Afsana Triya

“Why do you write every night?” asked my butterfly pea plant.

I pretended I didn’t hear her, ignored her effort to make a conversation, and continued to write.

She was quiet for a while. Then, “What is it you write?”

She received no answer from me.

It was already past midnight, so I got up and went to sleep.

The next evening after dinner, I sat on the balcony doing my usual writing.

“Are you writing in your journal again?” the butterfly pea plant asked.

“Poems,” I said. “They aren’t published yet.”

“Can I see them?”

“No.”

“This house is so quiet. I never see you having any visitors.” She hesitated before adding, “You don’t have many friends, do you?”

I didn’t respond.

As it was growing very chilly outside, I plucked three of her flowers to make myself a warm drink.

I went to the kitchen. As I turned the stove on and watched my water boil, I wondered if I should have thanked her for the flowers. Nah, I can’t be too friendly.

I went back to the balcony with my drink.

“Listen, Pea,” I said. “I’ll be away for a week on a work trip. I’ve asked my husband to water you on time. Good night.”

“Will he remember?” Pea asked.

“He will,” I said, and went inside.

That was the first time I had ever spoken to the plant without her asking me something first. 

A week later, on my first night back, I sat down to write. I immediately noticed my butterfly pea plant was gone. In her place stood a sunflower. 

I went to ask my husband, but he was already fast asleep. 

The next morning over breakfast, I asked, “What happened to my butterfly pea plant on the balcony?” 

“Oh, that one,” he said. “I was so busy with work that I forgot to water it, and it dried up. But I bought you a sunflower instead! I remembered you liked sunflowers.”

“That was a long time ago,” I said softly. “I wish you had just watered it.”

The next day, I went to the nursery and bought another butterfly pea plant. 

That night, I carried my notebook to the balcony earlier than usual. As I started to write, I kept glancing at my new plant.

After a long silence, I finally asked, “Do you want me to recite one of the poems I wrote?”

No answer.

Thankfully, this one asked no questions.

                                                                      

                                                            *    *    *

Afsana Triya is a digital artist and writer residing in Bangladesh. Outside of writing, she enjoys reading, gardening, and cooking. Her poems grow from emotions and experiences she has carried throughout her life.