night blooming

twenty odd years ago my best friend bob used to bring me single blossoms from his hostas. each evening i would pin a new flower to the wall with an old victorian hat pin and at night its powerful fragrance, which i adored, would fill my whole bedroom.

after he died i searched and searched for the same variety of hosta and never found a match. pure white, night blooming - and with that beautiful smell.

one perfect morning, three summers ago, i was driving past his old house and the new owners were having a garage sale. they were selling freshly dug pots of his hostas. i wonder if they still talk about the woman who burst into tears, cradling plants, in their driveway? anyway, these beautiful plants are budding right now and my thoughts are trailing after bob.