My love for bougainvillea is tied mostly to a memory. But, as memories from childhood mostly are, it is more a collection of images, a feeling, a voice, than a recollected moment in time. We were somewhere warm/tropical where bougainvillea thrive -- the Philippines, Thailand, India.. . I cannot recall. We were both young, my father still had hair of jet black. He picked me a blossom from a bougainvillea bush. The three deep magenta petals framing the core of the flower itself, small dainty white daisy-like blooms of their own. He placed it behind my ear, tucking my hair back. He smiled at me.
And he said, "You are the most beautiful girl in the world."
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