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.