Rose with hearts and ribbons design

The tin arrived on the same day the water recyclers failed, so you will forgive me if my handwriting wanders. Mother's drawing is still taped inside the lid. The rose sits in the middle with its leaves fanned out, and the three hearts are wrapped in ribbon like parcels someone could not decide how to tie. I always thought the ribbons looked as though they were trying to get away.

Doctor Okafor says the seed came up in the hold of the first ship, before the cold sleep rooms were built, so nobody knows whose hands packed it. He let me take it to the grow bay on the condition that I kept it under the blue lamp and off the ration schedule. Four days ago a green thread pushed out of the soil. This morning it had two serrated leaves, like the ones on the page, and a bud the size of a thumbnail.

I went looking for the names. Mother always said the hearts were for the three of us who left Earth, but the tin is stamped with a manifest code, and the code matches a ledger in the archive room. Three crew, all listed as gardeners. I sat on the archive floor for an hour reading them, then walked back to the grow bay, where the bud had opened a fraction more while I was gone.

I am keeping the tin. I am leaving the ribbons where they are.

Love, Maren