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.
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.
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.
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.