old neighbourhood & niece

I was in the car with my family, driving around the streets of our old neighbourhood – the neighbourhood of my teenage years. I was sitting in the back seat, on the left-hand side, where I sat as a child. We drove up the road around the corner from our house and observed that the people who lived in the houses lining the street—large brick houses with concrete verandahs and brick arches framing them—were standing or sitting outside, filing their nails whilst eavesdropping on each other. We drove around the corner and parked on the street outside our house. We hopped out of the car and I looked up at our house; it seemed much smaller than it used to be and much older. I could see patches of vivid green moss growing on the walls and dark water stains colouring the brick. We walked up and around corner of our block and stood on the other side of the house. The car turned into a smallish bus and I was standing with my family talking about presents for my niece. I realised that I had not given her the present that I had bought for her last year, and now, only a year later, she had outgrown the present – it was too childish for her. I stepped off the sidewalk, climbed the couple of stairs and went into the bus. My niece was inside sorting out her things and I noticed that the present was dropped on the floor. I picked it up and gave it to her – it was unopened. She opened it, unwrapping dark pink satin fabric studded with diamantes, to reveal a gold necklace: a fine chain holding a pendant of her name, written in a cursive script. I asked her if she liked it and she said that she didn’t; I was right, she had outgrown it. I found her honesty refreshing and asked her what sort of things she liked, what her tastes were. We sat next to each other on a seat that ran along the side wall of the bus, my arm around her, and flicked through the pages of a beautiful magazine. We looked at clothing, décor, food and more. It was exciting and I was happy to discover that I enjoyed a similar aesthetic.