they're gone

One (actually two) of the literal beacons of my early childhood have been removed. The Hudson Belk store at Crabtree Valley Mall has removed the chandeliers from their exterior entrance.

I already miss those things. They were there when I was 4 or 5 and were the most interesting things to see when traveling down US 70, helped along somewhat by being attached to a mall. They were there throughout the growing-up years, formally rocking 1972 for what seemed like forever.

They added life to a façade that now seems lifeless. Suddenly unfamiliar, like a fuzzy memory you think you had but maybe didn't. The reality is the crude holes in the portico ceiling, the concrete forms for the new entrance bridge that will take the place of the old lighting.

It's almost gone now: all the things I used to love about Hudson Belk Crabtree. The Capitol Room is a distant memory; paved over for Kate Spade handbags because "no one wants to eat in a cafeteria anymore." The furniture and rugs are gone too. Too bulky, not enough inventory turns. The fancy Nixon-era streetlamps along the exterior. There's one lonely one left; how the hell did that happen? The friendly lady from New Zealand who always wanted to talk, even though we barely knew each other save for Big and Tall transactions. She may still be there, but I never see her anymore.

Retail is a continuum. Nothing lasts forever and I'm not going to whine about this for long. But I'll have my moment to reminice over the old chandeliers and what they stood for in my life.