When Marguerite told me that the wrecking ball was attacking the three-flat where we had lived on Belmont, the news brought up a familiar feeling. Another place where important parts of my life had been lived was meeting its fate.
Is it grief when it's a building? Yes. Not being able to drive by and smile or groan at the memories is a loss. My Northwestern years are not forgotten but my freshman housing in the fake "foreign student home", and my sorority house are long gone.
My friend Lail says she doesn't want to return to Cherry Street. Not even to peek at whatever the developers did with her old home and spacious yard. She did enjoy knocking on the door of her grandmother's home on Balmoral. The young mother who answered was generous and friendly enough to let us see the rooms. Still standing, still lived in and loved.
Once we move through the grief process to acceptance, we can then call upon our stored memories in the hippocampus. Here are our stored memories awaiting recall, retrieval and renewed appreciation.
ReplyDeleteI do not think your experience is an unusual one, Joan. I recall a momentary sense of loss when the "L" platform on Madison and Wabash was radically transformed. I had no special attachment to it, but it was a place my father knew well, and so a piece of the landscape we shared when I was young was gone.
ReplyDeleteThe two-flat my brothers and I were raised in still stands on Talman Avenue. My youngest brother visited it not long ago and was able to get inside and take a few photos. Sic transit gloria mundi.
I love these stories about how we move through the scenes of our life. Looking forward to your next blog.
DeleteI feel a sense of loss every time I pass by a subdivision on south Harlem Avenue near my Mom's house where a horse farm stood during my childhood. Back then, we felt like we were out in the country and my siblings and I used to walk over to the horse farm every chance we got to pet and feed the horses grass. That vision still comes back to me as one of the best memories of my childhood. The very sight of horses can still make my heart skip a beat.
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