Favorite plant

Amma's jasmine vine had survived three continents. My grandmother brought a cutting wrapped in cloth during their journey, whispering prayers in Tamil as she planted it in Virginia soil. I watched her tend it through seasons, her weathered hands knowing exactly when to water, when to let it breathe. The fragrant white flowers reminded her of temple gardens back home. She'd string them into her hair during festivals, teaching me the old ways. That plant became our miracle, connecting us across years and distance. Now I nurture it, honoring her gift, our story intertwined with earth and heritage.