I do miss the Fiesta on Dunlavy.  I never thought I would be saying this about a grocery store.  After all, it was one part of a fairly large food chain that has systematically lost its personal "mom & pop" touch in the climb to a
mega-corporate status.  Still, this store felt more personal, and many of the long time employees knew their customers on a first name basis.

Even before Fiesta closed, I have gone many times to the new HEB since it first opened, but found that the "neighborhood store" across the street simply had more of what I was looking for, or, maybe it was just that things were easier to find.  It had an extensive and somewhat odd, multi-cultural selection for such a small store, and it seemed to fit the people who live in the Montrose area, as well as many of us "outsiders". Obviously, after 50 years, it became a part of our history.

I know that some of my fondness had to do with what was across the street from the Fiesta, long before it finely succumbed to age and big money.  That rather quaint but very run down, 1940's apartment complex, The Wilshire Village.  In fact, it was completed in the year 1940.  

There were countless times I have driven by, curious and mystified - especially as it lingered, seemingly untouched by the present times, and quite empty.  I had fantasized that even though it was condemned, there were probably some brave or desperate souls who still made it their home… possibly some who were not of the physical world. Honestly, the place was spooky.  Even though a part of me wanted to explore the area, another part of me would never have touched those sacred grounds.

By far, it was the grand oak trees that took my breath, with their large limbs reaching wide, like strong, open arms.  When the news came that the apartment buildings were coming down for the new HEB, there was an uproar from the community to save the trees, at any cost.  Many petitioned that the land become a city park, but we all know that there would have been no capital gain in that kind of decision.  In the end, HEB promised to do its best to build around them, when possible.  A pleasant handful now remain.

A few days ago, I needed to pick up some items and since I was driving down this street, HEB was the store.  I didn't notice anything different as I hurried across the parking lot, hoping to get in and out quickly.  But, when I came back to my car, I noticed something I had never seen before.  The heavy cables between my parking space and the street were tightly fastened to a large pole that seemed to have a peculiar remnant - a cut piece of limb that had grown around them.

The branch looked to be a good 12"-14" round.  It must have been from an oak tree, which does tend to grow very slowly.  I suppose that when it came time to remove this tree, part of it was so fused to those cables, that some worker just decided to saw off the two ends, leaving this clinging piece.

My heart ached a bit when I saw it.  It seemed a surreal reminder - almost sacrificial.  I snapped a photo, a bit stunned, as it pulled up the memory of all those beautiful trees, and our ever encroaching footprint upon nature. As I pulled away, I watched a man standing there, looking up at it.  I am sure many are caught in this same moment as they make their stop to the new HEB on Dunlavy.

It’s the things we pass by everyday.  Driving on the same road, taking the same route in life... creates a sense of familiarity, erroneous safety and perhaps, the mundane.  It was on such a road - a stretch of freeway I take nearly everyday, sometimes more than once, that I had a strange moment of Presence.

At 70 miles an hour, with many other embodied cars so close to me, some passing me at a greater speed, I noticed this row of spindly, tall plants growing out of a solid concrete wall - those stout-thick freeway dividers covered with hundreds of tread marks - another subject to reflect upon. The plants were all nearly the same height, and seemed to be an equal distance apart.

Maybe it was the music on the radio, or my odd, euphoric mood.  I did just eat some raw, organic chocolate.  Something gave me the window to see these 7 - 10 single-stemmed plants - weeds, we would call them,  growing straight up, searching for a bit of sunlight under the bridge that towered high above them.  This scene is not so remarkable, but I felt the irony of speeding by this simple moment, like we so commonly do in much of our lives... passing those sweet little nothings that could remind us, if we just slowed down enough to notice, the miracle in our own breath... in every moment that we are here.

The intense heat, the lack of water and nutrient-rich soil, the deafening noise, the unwavering, erratic wind from thousands of fast moving vehicles - it would seem enough to discourage anything from thriving.  The discord of all these static energies would not make for a good environment to grow, and yet, how wonderful to “see” in that precious instant, that life still makes its way into the void... into those small crevices never intended to support anything other than a minute, empty space.

On the same stretch of freeway, just moments later, a bird was flying directly above the cars in front of me, moving along at the same pace and direction, with no change or seeming sense that it may be hit in an instant.  Eventually, it simply banked its wings and flew to the upper right, away from the speeding traffic, heading for another large bridge.  My eyes followed it up to a very high underpass, where there must have been a nest.  Who knew the busy freeway that I travel everyday could bring me so much more than heavy traffic and the way home?