The sound of the post slipping through the letterbox and gently thumping the carpet was the same as it was on other days, but this day contained something I could have done without. A letter from the local authorities telling me that one of the properties I owned was lacking in essential maintenance records for 10 years. If I did not show it was fit to live in within a month, it would be demolished. A glance at the address in question made me groan inwardly - the place was none other than the one I hoped it wouldn't be. It was the house my grandparents left me 10 years ago, and I had indeed not stepped inside for 10 years. With no real choice in the matter now, I decided I would stop by the old place after work that day.
---
My grandmother was the first to go, and my grandfather followed her a few months later. So close in life, that even in death they couldn't stand being apart from each other for very long. Or so the people said, to somehow comfort themselves. I planted a red rose at her feet, and a white rose at his feet. A few years later, the vines had intertwined and formed one great bush, which in bloom was a sight to behold. Emptying the house and executing the will fell to me, and I did all that was requested. I did not expect the house to be given to me, but it was. However, whilst I couldn't bear to sell it, I felt uneasy in the house knowing that the two people I associated with it most were never going to come back again. I ignored it, put it to the back of my mind, and carried on with my life. A voice I rarely heard told me to go and visit it a few times. It told me that the solution to my restless heart lay in that house, but I refused to listen. The voice became softer everytime I ignored it, and within a few weeks, I heard it no more. Now fate was forcing me to visit.
---
It was not as bad as I expected, or so I thought when gazing at it from the outside. The lawn was probably more accurately described as a mini-jungle, but 10 years of disregard would do that to any lawn. The inset square stones were still present, albeit cracked, with weeds growing out of them, but I was still able to walk right up to the door, as I used to all those years ago. When I was a child, it was a game for me to skip all the way from garden gate to door on the inset squares. Today, I would only walk on them. Up close, the paint on the house and on the door was in the final stages of flaking. Weeds and vines had completely claimed the whole of one side of the house, all the way up to the second storey. The key just about fit into the lock, and only turned after a struggle. It was clear from the thick layer of dust that I needn't have locked the door all those years ago - I was still the last person to have visited. As I reached into my pocket for a torch and stepped in, I wondered if I should have brought her with me.
---
Would she have come, though? Was it still repairable? I had no idea. Whatever spark we had at the beginning seemed to be genuine, but as the years went past it faded, and now we lived together, more out of routine than actually wanting to. We didn't hate each other (not yet, anyway), but we had become somewhat indifferent. Somewhere along the line we accepted this, and whilst we wanted a return to better days, neither of us were willing to put the effort in.
---
I walked gingerly around the house. I tested the electricity and the water, but I did not expect either to be working. I was right. I still felt odd around the house, but was a lot more at ease then when I was last here all those years ago. Maybe I had over-reacted in trying to forget about the place. I glimpsed the garden that was once my grandfather's pride and joy through the kitchen window, and it took some time before I realised that that was what I was looking at. And here my conscience stung me. He had made that small patch into a miniature heaven on earth, filling it with beauty, and harmony, and serenity. And I had let all that drift away because I didn't want to be reminded of losing him. Maybe I hadn't over-reacted in trying to forget the place. However, try as I might, I was not able forget, or stop myself from remembering the most powerful, inspirational conversation I had ever had in my life.
---
I remember being asked by my grandfather if he wanted me to check the garden with him. I looked up from my phone screen, and politely declined. I used to love being in the garden when I was a child. That was before I discovered screens. First there was the TV screen that kept me occupied and silent, and taught me things that maybe my parents in retrospect wish that I never learned. Then I graduated to a computer screen, where I learned to get addicted to the feeling of always being connected, which set me up nicely for when I moved up a level, and ended up with the small screen of a smartphone as an extension of self. When I did decline his offer, I was sure he felt some pang of sadness, but he did not show it. He left me to my device, and went to take care of his. If it wasn't for my grandmother, who took me aside and gently told me that I was missing out on quality time with my grandfather, and that the chance may never come again to spend such with him, I would not have decided to go see my grandfather in the garden. That my grandmother confiscated my phone until I saw him also helped my decision.
---
I gasped when I stepped out into the garden. My grandfather was a true artist, and his canvas was green. I watched him at work without announcing myself, and saw the loving tenderness with which he did every job that needed to be done, and how they all fit into some master plan. In the corner was a budding orange tree, which would be ripe within a few weeks. I saw him cut out all the buds, and leave them in the grass near the roots, and couldn't contain my curiosity. I asked him why he just did that, when he could easily have had delicious fruit in a few weeks, and he responded with one word. "Patience". He explained that whilst he could easily have enjoyed the fruit this year, the tree still needed to grow, and that when it was fully established, then the fruit would be exceptionally tasty. But we had to let go of sweetness sometimes in the present, to enjoy it multiplied in the future. I was stunned. I asked him where his insight came from.
"We humans always want the lazy way out. We always want instant gratification. We somehow know - we always know - that the best things in life are what we have to work hard and put the time in for, but we still dream of laziness. This is why all the get-rich-quick schemes exist, and also why they fail. This garden is my own reminder to myself that such don't pay, and they never will. And never is that more true in relationships. You can never build a strong bond without patience, love, trust, tolerance, sacrifice, and time."
And how did he end up learning that? "Your grandmother. She said nearly exactly the same words to me when we were going through a rough patch between ourselves, and I was just getting stared with gardening and impatient at my lack of progress. Only she could tie the two together with enough skill to make it seem obvious to anyone. She's sharper and wiser than anyone will ever give her credit for."
---
With that memory replaying itself over and over in my head, I stepped into the garden. If you looked hard enough, you could see where the patterns in the garden used to be by how the wild plants were growing. What was not mistakable was the massive orange tree that dominated its area, though even here it was surrounded by weedlings. Dangling from its branches were the fruits of unpicked harvest. Orange after orange, a few dozen, most ripe, all hung from a crisscrossed mesh of brown and green. I knew then what I had to do. I knew why my soul had been nagging me to visit here. it's not very often that you find the solution to your present problems in your very own past, but there you go. Maybe I never really learned it the first time it was explained to me.
---
There was a shed in the garden, and the key was in the keyring with the house keys, which were with me. I opened the musty door, not without force, and groped about till i found what I was looking for. A watering can. I struggled to find water, because the company had cut off the supply years ago, when suddenly I recalled an old rain tank built on top of the shed. It hadn't rained in a while, but I was still hoping that there was enough residue to fill the watering can at least once. There was enough to fill it up to three quarters, and that, I guess would have to do.
I watered the orange tree. Nobody had watered or trimmed the tree for years, so enough of the fruit was dangling low enough for me to reach out and pick them without even stretching, and I did. It was a weird feeling to be the one picking fruit and watering the plant, and sensing some sort of link to the last person to have done so. I bit into the orange and felt like I must have tasted some otherworldly fruit. It was perfect. I muttered both a thank you and a prayer under my breath for both of my grandparents.
When I was done, I picked up the phone, and asked her to meet me where I was. I was kinda surprised when she agreed so readily, but I think I sounded different, more confident, more sure of myself, and maybe that piqued her interest. I would have 30 minutes alone before she came. I spent them all sitting in the shade of the orange tree.
---
"Aren't these oranges heavenly?"
"Perfect. Now, what did you invite me here for? Just to sit under an orange tree?"
"Not exactly. Did I ever tell you about my grandparents?"
"You only ever mentioned them in passing"
"Well, I have a lot to tell you"
"I have time."
"Well, both my grandfather and grandmother were very astute people. And from them I think I've finally learned something about relationships."
"It's about time. Do tell"
"Believe it or not, it's linked to this very orange tree. More than 10 years ago, I…"
---
[END]
