Circumstance is a remarkable thing. I’m not a believer in fate, nor an organised interpretation of ‘god’ or ‘the universe’. The law of attraction behind faith systems like The Secret, are merely a way of monetising insecurity in my opinion.
That said, circumstance has a way of surprising me.
Recently, geographical circumstance took me to New York, and back 23 years.
Last week, a chance finding on our local high street took me back just 3.
Three years ago, we lived in Newtown. My wife and I started work early every day, so getting the girls to school was a huge juggle. Then we met Belle and Victoria. They lived one street over and they were the kind of people who we instantly warmed to. Belle had just had their first child, Aria, and so had taken maternity leave. They stepped in and walked our girls to school for us. It was more than a convenience — they genuinely enjoyed it, the girls loved them (as did we) and everybody won.
Then we moved to Erskineville and the school was at the end of our street. My wife dropped down to working a couple of days a week, and Belle and Victoria were off the hook, but not out of our lives. But life moves on, and we saw them less often. Victoria was travelling more and Aria had grown up and Belle was back at work. We’d still run into them from time to time along Erskineville Road or at the park. Other times at the Everleigh farmer’s market, or getting dinner from our favourite restaurant, Maggie’s.
Present day.
A fire in the apartment above Maggie’s, spread to the restaurant below. A parade of flashing lights and the acrid smell of man-made things burning, and Maggie’s was gone. Thankfully, no one was hurt and the familiar smiles at Maggie’s were back in 8 months, having taken a well-earned vacation before the rebuild.
At around the same time that Maggie’s reopened, our great friends and fellow Erko dwellers, Dan and Wye, made the decision to move back to Perth. I’m not sentimental about friendships. In my experience, they either last, or they don’t. Nothing can be gained from lamenting the loss of proximity, and nor should it be expected to have a bearing on the outcome. A lot of my dearest friends are those I have been separated from for extended periods. My closest friend in the world lives half a world away and it’s had absolutely no impact on the strength of our bond. But losing our proximity to Dan and Wye was a great excuse to get the families together for another meal at Maggie’s.
Erskineville road is a collection of new and old.
The Chinese takeaway place on the corner has been there for 30 years and has not changed so much as the oil in the fryer in that time. I’ve never been compelled to eat there. By stark contrast, The Rose of Australia Hotel has been standing since 1874. It recently had an extensive facelift, is now one of the most modern looking pubs in the Inner West. But the one thing about Erko that does not seem to change is the sense that you’re part of a tightly knit village, in the middle of a big city. From the waves of the locals, to the local providore that remembers your favourite cheese (Gorgonzola Dulce). The fact that your kids can dress up in their most creative clothing combinations to ride their bikes up the street. The suburb is a wonderful example of tolerance, camaraderie, happiness and acceptance without judgement. When we leave Sydney, it’s this piece I’ll miss most.
It’s a warm evening and the kids are playing on the sidewalk outside as they wait for the meals to arrive. They gawk at the puppies and kittens in the front window of the vet next door and play an imaginary game of hide and seek in plain sight. The bike rack becomes a swinging gym and passers by are moving obstacles that become part of whatever game they have created from balmy air and childhood wonder.
My eldest child spies a twinkling treasure on the edge of the nature patch from which the magic tree grows, and she leans over it to investigate. It’s a ring. She brings it to me and says “Daddy, it’s got strange markings on it.” On the outside of the slender silver ring were a set of coordinates set out in longitude and latitude:
33°53'38.3"S 151°11'17.5"E
On the inside was the inscription.
Copper Promises.
I was instantly intrigued. Who did this belong to? What did it mean? How could we find the owner and return it?
We returned home and the ring was put onto the corner of the bench in the kitchen. Where it stayed. For two long weeks. Until I noticed it as I was looking for something less important. I immediately opened my laptop and punched in the coordinates.
It returned the result with a nicely animated drop pin: The Everleigh Markets, our Saturday morning coffee-fresh-baked-bread-and-cheese-and-fresh-fruit-and-veg-grab-a-bunch-of-flowers routine.
The ring had some connection to Everleigh, as did I. The next clue, Copper Promises closed the loop. ‘Copper Promises is an exploration of belonging, of finding family, of reconnecting with culture and of learning from land, ancestors and peers.’
Created and performed by one woman, this hour long modern dance has garnered a host of glowing praise, and is now touring the UK.
It was written, created and choreographed by Victoria Hunt.
Not only had I found the ring’s owner, turns out she’s a friend of mine, who used to walk my kids to school.
Circumstance?
