Originally published on June 23, 2006

do you ever hear something and are just as shocked by your reaction to it as you are by the thing itself?

when i was growing up there was a man who owned a convenience store at the end of my road and every time i went in there he would give me candy.  this probably started when i was a blonde-ringleted five year old and continued until i graduated high school and moved away. as childhood things will, this man and this place have always been frozen in time in my memory — one of those simple pleasant places in your mind that you never question and always believe will exist.

and then today i hear that this man, this frozen-in-time, dispenser of joy-in-the-form-of-sweets died last night.  i am shocked at its suddenness  and sad for his family. and i am surprised at how sad i am personally — sad that this once solid, stationary part of the fabric of my memory has ceased to exist. sad that this person, who i knew only superficially, but for so long, is no longer around.

i wonder if he knew he was a childhood icon to the little girl down the street who is not so grown up as one might think?