Posted February 15, 2011

This apostle plant blooms in my window at this time of year––my wedding anniversary, my daughter’s birth, Valentine’s Day.

This plant is a descendant––a cutting of a cutting of a cutting––of one that belonged to my great grandmother. Between second and sixth grades, my mother, sister and I lived in a tiny, crumbling half-a-house in downtown Princeton. It had no shower, only a claw foot tub in the tiny bathroom. My mom filled a shelf at the faucet end of the tub with a row of these plants and the stiff leaves used to rub my feet when I ducked under to rinse my hair. Terrifying. Never noticed seeing a single one bloom. But as an adult, here they are, with these gorgeous and fleeting flowers. I photograph them every time they bloom as if it’s possible to hold on.