Orchid

My grandmother loved her garden. It was a labyrinthine jungle full of plants and flowers. It exuded a fruity aroma with hints of eucalyptus and mint. My mother strictly forbade me from entering without a companion, as the strong wave of scents would leave me overwhelmed. "Stop pampering him, you're going to turn him into a complete good-for-nothing," my grandmother would say grudgingly.

I always disobeyed my mother’s orders. Every time I was left unsupervised, I would sneak carefully through the living room, always mindful of avoiding loose floorboards. I loved entering the garden and exploring with my senses. I adored feeling the cold earth beneath my bare feet, touching the smooth leaves as I brushed past the plants, tracing the rough bark of the trees with my fingertips. But what fascinated me the most was inhaling the rich aroma of flowers. Every time I caught a scent, I could visualize every detail of the flower in my mind: its shape, the thickness of its stem, and even the colours of its petals. 

My grandmother always spent her time in the garden. Most of the time, she would sit by her glass table, sipping coffee, or I’d find her bent over, pulling weeds from the soil. But not once, during all the times I snuck into her garden without permission, did she pay me the slightest attention — not even the time I fell, tripping over some roots and scraping my knees. She didn’t look up once as I sat sniffling over my grazed skin.

I didn’t mind; I was content just to lose myself in the garden’s zigzagging paths, wandering aimlessly. Over time, I learned every part of the garden. I figured out where to leap without crushing any plants when I landed on the stone path. But one day, as I was playing beneath the orange tree, I tripped over something. My grandmother howled in a guttural cry. That was the first time she kicked me out of the garden. "Be more careful, boy!" she scolded. I burst into tears at the harshness of her tone.

That night, once my grandmother had calmed down, I asked her what it was that I had tripped over. "An orchid," she replied. "To you, it’s an invisible flower because it has no scent." From that day on, finding the orchid became an obsession for me. I started examining plant by plant, touching every leaf and petal. But no matter how much I searched, I could never find it.

Until one night asleep in my bed, a scent wafted in from the garden and set my neurons alight. It was a seductive fragrance that gently wrapped me in its spell. It pulled me into the garden, sending me into a dreamlike haze, as if floating among the clouds and for the first time in my life, my clouded eyes saw the most beautiful flower in the world. Its delicate stem and plump petals held infinite colours. The sweetness of its scent painted every detail; I could see every leaf and the shades of the purple fading into white. For once, I felt truly happy.