Years have passed since the war ended. Susan and her family couldn't return to their beautiful community; they relocated to another part of the country and began their lives anew.
"Dad, do you think our community still exists?" Susan asked one day during lunchtime.
Her father sighed and dropped his fork. Talking about the war always made him feel uneasy and sad.
"Of course, it should still exist." Her father replied.
"Do you think people are there now, or it's probably a desert now?" Susan asked again, but this time, her mother seeing how uneasy her husband had become, chose to answer the question.
"Susan, desertification can't just happen like that. Our community is still out there. It could have been inhabited by other people, or it could remain empty, but that's not what we should dwell on. We should focus on the life that we've created here." Her mother said.
"I miss the flowers." Susan muttered and dug into her food.
Her mother stared at her with sadness in her eyes. She knew it would take a lot for her daughter to forget their community, especially the flowers that she had cherished so much. Lydia, Susan's mother wished there was a way she could bring the flowers to where they currently lived, and maybe relieve her daughter of her pain and longing a little.
Time passed, and Susan's memory of their community gradually began to fade. She was busy with her education, as she had promised to be the best in her classes. After graduating from high school, Susan furthered her education in college. She excelled in her studies and made the top ten best students in her classes.
One day, Susan and her friends took a walk around the rural parts of the region where she schooled. As they walked past a compound, a familiar scent hit her nose. She immediately turned around and saw the flowers she had cherished as a child. She went over to where the flower was and plucked one, then she inhaled it with her eyes closed.
The sweet scent of the moonflower in her hand brought back nostalgia for her childhood evenings when she would dance around the flowers with her friends.
Susan stood there for some time, leaving her friends speechless. They wondered what could have made her hold onto the flower for so long. Soon, the owner of the house came outside and walked towards them. She smiled at Susan and responded calmly to her friend's greetings.
"That's a moonflower. I see that you're intrigued with the scent." The house owner said to Susan.
"I'm sorry that I had to pluck it. The sweet scent brought back memories that I had missed for a long time." Susan replied.
The house owner smiled at her warmly; she picked more flowers and added to the one Susan already had in her hands. There was a look of surprise on Susan's face.
"You can have it. You should have a piece of your loving memories with you." The woman said to her; Susan thanked her and left with her friends.
"What memory do you have of these flowers?" One of her friends asked her.
"Childhood memories." Susan whispered in response.
"But there are no flowers at your house." Another friend said.
"Well, I had a life before I came here, and my memories stemmed from that very life." Susan replied.
For the rest of their walk, Susan was lost in thoughts of her childhood before the war broke out. She reminisced on the pleasant life she had led as a child. She missed her friends and prayed they would be safe, so that one day, she could maybe meet them again.
Some days later, Susan packed a small bag and left the house. She traveled back to their community. Ever since she saw the moonflower, the urge to return to her community overwhelmed her, and that weekend, she embarked on a nostalgic journey to her childhood.
When she got there, surprisingly for her, people lived in some of the houses. She made her way to their old house where the flowers had bloomed the most. It was just as they had left it, and nobody had occupied the house. The flowers danced with the cool evening breeze, and their sweet scent brought tears to her eyes.
She walked to the big oak tree at the back of the compound, and she found the markings they had made as children, back then when they were eager to see how tall they could grow.
Susan sat on the cemented seat her dad had made for her as a child and stared at the flowers she had cherished so much, listening to their waving sounds to the night breeze.
As she looked back on these memories, she realized that the sound of flowers was more than just a nostalgic trigger, it was the reminder of the beauty and simplicity of their lives before things fell apart.
