Changes

I don't handle changes very well. I guess that I handle them better than I think, because we have moved a lot over the past 10 years and I've adapted quite well. But changes to things from my childhood have really been bothering me lately.

On Saturday I went to the Murray Community Dance Recital to see my niece, Karly, perform. First thing that started me on the 'changes are bugging me' is the high school where the recital was held. It was at my old high school, Murray High. But it isn't my old high school because it has changed so much. I entered on the North side, where the old parking lot use to be, but I forgot that the main parking lot is now on the South side of the school. I thought about parking in my 'old spot' and walking in the doors that I walked through every morning at 6:00 a.m. to the dance studio, but I honestly don't know if I would be able to find the new auditorium from there. I don't even know if the dance studio is still there. I was lost in a place that I use to know so well.

I drove around to the new parking lot and followed the crowd because I figured that they knew where they were going. I have been to the high school since the remodel, but I haven't been to a real event there. I found my seat and got ready for the show to start. I saw a girl that I went to high school with, sitting in front of me. Her daughter was in the show. I found myself thinking that I don't remember this friend being so pretty. Not that she was ugly 15 years ago, but she just looked amazing. Not a bad change.

The costumes got me thinking about how things have changed. I haven't looked at my dance pictures yet, but I'm pretty sure that all of my costumes had sleeves until I was around 10 or 11. The little 4 year old girls were wearing sleeveless costumes. They were cute, but could have been adorable with the addition of sleeves. I know that I wore some questionable costumes throughout my dancing days, but not when I was a little girl. This change was not good.

After the recital I went to find my niece to tell her what an awesome job she did. I passed an old neighbor in the hallway. I said hello and I don't think that she recognized me because her response was very genericand impersonal. It kind of bothered me. The meeting was short and uncomfortable. I had to realize that my hair is long now and I have lost 25 pounds since I last saw her and that she might not know that I am back from Georgia, but it was kind of a blow to my self esteem at first. I left the school and decided to drive to a fabric shop that is nearby. The parking lot was full, so I drove down the street and turned into a nearby parking lot to turn around. That was a bad idea.

This parking lot is where my old church house use to be. It was a beautiful two story building that was built in the early 1900's. It was called the Grant building because the current church prophet, Heber J. Grant, dedicated it. This building is where Daniel and I held our wedding reception. Our reception was one of the last big events to be held in that building before they tore it down to put in a parking lot for the nearby park and Senior Citizen Center.

I instantly starting thinking of all of the memories I have that happened in that old building. I thought of things like helping some of the older women up the huge staircase before they put in the elevator, attending Primary in the basement room, swinging from the exposed pipes running along the ceiling while wearing a dress and giving Vicky Paul a heart attack, Mark Ogden's surprise 16th birthday party where we played sardines, Halloween parties with spook alleys and pumpkin carving contests, playing a solo piano piece titled "How Great Thou Art" and being so nervous and then so emotionally overtaken by the piece that I went out into the hallway and cried after the song was over, (I'm crying right now just thinking of it). I remember learning how to drive in the parking lot, playing on the lawn in the front of the church,the Daddy Daughter Dance, and playing broom hockey in the cultural hall.
I remembered Grandpa Burton. He wasn't my real grandfather, but everyone called him Grandpa. I had adopted him and even though he had a lot of real grandchildren, he adoped me. I always really looked up to him. I would ask him how he was doing and he would always answer "The best that I know how." That phrase has always stuck with me. He was such a sweet man. He was in his 90's when he died, but he was always young at heart.

For some reason I felt angry that so many things had changed. I realize that my memories are mine to keep, but I just felt like a lot of the physical evidence of my memories are being erased.

I decided to go home, so I headed down State Street and passed by Fashion Place Mall. I don't even recognize that mall anymore. That use to be MY mall, I knew where all of the stores were and I now I don't know what is there. I drove past the shopping center where there use to be a car lot, a bar, a fast food restaurant and a little duplex. I'm not too sad to see the used car lot and the bar leave, but it all just looks so different! I turned onto 6400 South and remembered when all of the new houses and the 'replacement' church went up in the field behind said car lot. (The beautiful friend that I saw at the school lives in that neighborhood). I didn't go down my parent's street, but decided to go home. I was tired.
Pretty soon the area around the Trax station will be completely different, too. I don't do well with these changes, sometimes. I understand that progress is necessary. I understand that a world without change is not good, but I wish that it wouldn't play with my memories the way that it has. I start to feel lost in the world when I feel that I should know exactly where I am.