Mike —
Remember that "restaurant" called Under the Big Tree? Just wood tables and benches, an old tree's thick gnarled branches for a roof. Every surface uneven &mdasdh; the tables and benches a landscape of small holes and rough, splintered bark, perched atop sandy ground made bumpy by the old tree's roots and tough little tufts of grass that tried, very hard.
Remember? We had many good plates of wan tan mee there. You had to eat fast so that nothing fell into your noodles before you got to them; who knew when the fickle wind would bring a surprise — a stray leaf from the branches and twigs above, an unidentified flying bug blown off course, an especially light pebble.
And then over the years the "restaurant" became famous even without a sign, not even a cardboard plaque, and the city ordered the stall demolished for fear that the old tree would keel over and kill us all. I remember feeling annoyed, not quite sad.
Two months later there was news that Under the Big Tree was reopening in another part of town. Excited, we rode on your noisy motorcycle with the left-slanted head toward it, you constantly jerking the handles to your right in an effort to keep us going straight.
Remember how disappointed we were? We were at the hawker's centre, with its many many stalls all facing inward in a square. One of the many many stalls bore a glowing white sign that said "Under the Old Tree," and in front of it were plastic-topped, metal-legged round tables and chairs. The roof overhead was mostly tin.
We sat down and ate plates of wan tan mee anyway, even though we knew what it would be like. It was horrible. I kept wishing a bug would dive into my noodles.
Remember that? Calling what has changed by its old name will not bring it back, Mike. It only distorts it, damaging not only what it is now but also reaching back to smear what it once was.
We cannot call this love anymore. I want my books back.
Still yours,
E
Y. Z. Chin is a Malaysian writer. Work has previously appeared in Collateral Damage, a fiction anthology, as well as east of the web, Falling Star Magazine and Hobble Creek Review. Chin is currently Managing Editor of RHINO poetry magazine.