Fixtures

A cousin of mine recently commented that she was strangely comforted by seeing the same people hanging out in a coffee shop she revisited after nine years. I share the sentiment. If life is a journey that sometimes doubles back on itself, it's comforting to have these fixtures in the landscape. They reassure one that some things do endure, remind one of good times, and even prove, by contrast, how far one has come. I don't think the pleasure they give is the same thing as nostalgia, which romanticizes the past. If anything, these fixtures look a little smaller, a little humbler, than when they were first encountered. These are not the people or things that have grown with me. They are the things that, in some ways, I've left behind.

A tiny sampling of the fixtures in my personal landscape, in no order of significance:

• My mother's childhood home in Nagpur, India -- though how much longer it will remain a "constant" is up in the air
• The Omaha Public Library, near the house where I grew up -- specifically, the outside ledge that used to be my hideout
• The Comic Book Guy at the Dragon's Lair in Omaha -- I went back recently, and he still runs his shop after more than 30 years
• The Omaha Community Playhouse, where my Junior High self was inspired to fancy myself a "theater afficionado"
• Buffalo Joe's, in Evanston, my first exposure to the Buffalo Wing
• The Lakefill at Northwestern, where I took many walks, discussing many things that seemed vitally important at the time
• Old Peculier Ale -- shared with Jon at Mr. Toad's in Omaha, my first "pub hangout"
• The Briarwood apartments in Madison, my first home-on-my-own
• The Espresso Royale on State Street and the terrace by the Student Union -- my Madison reading haunts when I didn't want to be by myself, but I had nobody to call
• The bars near State and Division in Chicago, where we started our evenings with such hope, and ended them with such disappointment -- and kept repeating the cycle
• The Michigan Avenue offices of the National Association of Realtors, where I spent some of the richest unproductive hours with Mike and Francisco
• The Kopi Cafe in Andersonville where I went on two dates; the second of which led to marriage
• More music, books and movies than I could name

My contract with Google will be over in April, which means that I'll soon be bidding farewell to people and a product with whom I've worked for five years. In times of change, these little touchstones put things in perspective. I will move on. I'll grow, and change, and acquire wisdom. And it'll be better than okay.

But no, I'm still not going to my high school reunion!