Memories, Change

Sighing deeply, I remember that little shop on the corner. Though small, seemingly insignificant, it vibrated with an intense vitality. The colors, the smell, the products: it all contributed.

I passed it everyday, to and from grade school. The owner was the heart of the store. Dave's store--now I remember what I fondly called it. He was the center, the life, the soul. "Hey, come try this new food I just made!", he would say, as I came into the store after school to get the free soda he offered to my brothers and I. He fancied himself a deli master. He wasn't too far off the mark. With a smile on my face, I remember that store was more a home than the little construct I slept in.

One day, Dave...went away.

"He's just on a trip." My young mind did not grasp the concept of permanent departure. I was more concerned with the departure of my daily food and drink after school.

I continued to pass the shop every day. I noticed the color seemed to dim a bit, but I didn't think too much of it. When the brightly lit sign lost letters, still I kept the image of perfection in my mind. It was still the same. I clung to that image for all I was worth, and the shop continued it's decline. One day...

One day, it was gone. In the place of my perfect image was a run down shop, so like the ones I saw in central Phoenix from the passenger seat of my father's cab. I let my mind accept the shop for what it really became. It wasn't always that way. It started out as Dave's store. But that wasn't--and still isn't--what it is now.

I sigh deeply again as my mind softly whispers "Nothing lasts forever. The only permanence is death."

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