#12: Never Change

Our return to Edmonton was predictably, a bit sentimental.

Checking out exciting new additions to the city skyline is all very well and good, but I am more interested in the familiar, so as we to-and-fro across

"Butterdome" sports complex -- my running track in 1984

town on various errands, I am happy to be reminded of favourite old haunts.  I've always loved driving on the Groat Road, a twisting freeway through a canyon into the river valley, and on this visit we experience that thrill several times.  Ditto the U of A campus which we seem to pass frequently.  It is still dominated by buildings we recognize (including the strange looking "Butterdome"), although change is in the air with  creeping development about to colonize an entire nearby residential street.   Out by the university farm we pass Michener Park with its married-student residences, and are gratified to see that Vanier House still looks as cool as it did in 1969 when we were among the first occupants. (I wonder if those big windows still leak and if you can still hear what is going on in your neighbour's bedroom.)

A stock photo of Vanier house

But we are not really in search of iconic roads or buildings. We wouldn't be crossing town this way at all except that we are meeting up with friends.  It is the people that bring us back to Edmonton, and in five days, we manage to connect with everyone we want to see. Over dinner, lunch or coffee, we play catch-up.  How are you doing? How are the kids?  What about the rest of the family?  What we wanted to hear/what they wanted to hear was Good, Good, Good. But we range from  68 to 75 years, so the indignities of aging are not unexpected.   In truth, there have been health challenges, but these have been weathered.  People seem to be coping, thankful for life's gifts, and even as mortality nibbles at our knees (and other bits), new developments bring joy.  The birth of grandchildren.  Three sets of children, including partners and grand kids, moving back to Edmonton.  (I am so pleased for my friends, but a bit envious.  None of my kids will be returning to Guelph.) 

Marilyn (a friend since grade 7) and Gil (whom Bruce knew in high school).  Surely, we aren't pushing 70?

Collectively, we note with pleasure that many things have not changed.  We may not look the same, but we look like ourselves.  (Quite honestly, I'd say we look great!) We make the same jokes.  We still have the same interests.  Miraculously, none of our friends has moved, and I am delighted to visit homes and gardens I know well and to see that there have been no decorating makeovers  (though perhaps pictures and nicknacks come out of hiding when I am coming to visit because friends recognize that I don't like change.) 

I have the sense of my own life shifting a wee bit as I head toward my 70's so an illusion of stability gives me great comfort.   But perhaps it is not an illusion.  The essence of who we are/what we are-- that really is constant. These old friends have always been gracious, interesting, funny and kind, and regardless of what else happens, that will stay the same.

Until we return (and because we are retired, we'll do it soon), I'll hold that thought.