Then one day in spring my grandmother shouted, and we all ran to the garden and saw a beautiful pink lotus unfurling its petals, so creamy and soft.
“It is the flower of life and hope,” my grandmother said. “No matter how ugly the mud or how long the seed lies dormant, the bloom will be beautiful. It is the flower of my country.” When the lotus blossom faded and turned into a pod, Bá gave each of her grandchildren a seed to remember her by, and she kept one for herself to remember the emperor by.
I wrapped my seed in a piece of silk and hid it in a secret place. Someday I will plant it and give the seeds to my own children and tell them about the day my grandmother saw the emperor cry.