
Smiling again. Ah, some things never change. Just thought I’d visit an old fruit tree I used to know in the back blocks of Abbotsford in inner Melbourne. I paused next to the tin fence and looked up into the branches. Nice to see you old friend, still going after all these years. This house and it’s wild, old garden has escaped the rush for change. Somehow, I really can’t believe it.
I took a few photos, loitering as long as I decently could without feeling too weird. It is funny. When I move on from a place that I liked I always feel as though I could just walk in the door, through the time and be there, as things were, again.
Well I haven’t found a way to do that, just quietly, but when things hardly change very much over the years it feels close to a possibility. How funny would it be if my younger self came running around the corner, half smiling at me but taking not too much notice. In a hurry, maybe stumbling on the bluestones, wearing bright lipstick, some beads or other and an op-shop dress. My younger self still so new. Happy in her unique 50c dress. Going somewhere, maybe just to buy a mango.
Victoria St is nearby. The whole street smells like mangos in the summer and bunches of coriander. Libraries of green leafy vegetables line up in boxes along the walls of the little Vietnamese supermarkets. A bright shrine sits in a corner where offerings are made to the ancestors.
That reminds me of a little story. G and I were once walking along Victoria St and saw one of these brightly coloured shrines sitting alone next to the gutter. No one was paying attention to it and it looked odd and forlorn, forgotten in clear view and broad daylight.
We walked past it and then thinking about it I decided we should take the shrine with us. I had no idea what I was going to do with it but we took it home and left it out the front. I didn’t feel comfortable with the shrine inside for some reason. So it stayed on the porch.
So time went by and every so often I would worry a little about it sitting out there. Surely it had somewhere it was supposed to be?
By a string of coincidences G was offered a lift home one day by a person he was involved with for business - someone he met only a few times. When they arrived at our house the gentleman, who came from Vietnam, saw the shrine and instantly showed clear concern.
He explained that it was his belief that the shrine couldn’t possibly stay where it was, shivering amongst the autumn leaves. You see there was an ancestor attached to this brightly coloured box who would be suffering without the regular care of prayers and offerings to maintain it’s wellbeing.
He offered to take it away. He would care for it even though it was not dedicated to a member of his family but an unknown soul - a stranger. What a beautiful concept. G saw the shrine happily in situ in the man’s business a few weeks later. It had it’s offerings and it’s cosy spot. I can imagine it was smiling.
So the shrine took a winding road to find the someone who would look after it or I like to think so anyway.
Lovely old things fruit trees. They always bring back memories.