Is This the Place?

In one of my past lives, I lived and worked in downtown Salt Lake City.  I spent hours on Main Street, gophering documents from big building to big building, and shopping and lunching in the downtown malls.  I knew all the back alleys and secret parking spots. I knew Salt Lake City like my own face, which was not that difficult, since downtown Salt Lake City was a pretty simple, quiet place back then.  I guess it's still pretty simple.  There are just trains there now. And a few taller buildings.

Last week, Em and I spent a few hours at City Creek Center, which is the brand new shopping mecca in these here parts, replacing the old downtown Crossroads Mall and ZCMI Center.  It is lovely and open, and a definite improvement over what was there before. And I must say that even though in theory I knew where I was, in reality I was completely lost.  For the life of me I could not place what used to be in the place where I was standing.  All the familiar landscapes were in the right spot- there were the temple spires on the northwest corner, there was the Eagle Gate and the Beehive House, but it was all just wrong. I was somewhere I had been a million times before, and I didn't know where I was.

Then, on my way out, as I was walking back to my parking spot, which I had taken great pains to carefully bookmark in my head ( find the Macy's entrance with the waterfall in front of it, then walk through the make up department and go down the escalators!), I spotted the old ZCMI storefront windows.  Those windows have been there forever, and thank heavens somebody had the good sense to leave them alone, because as soon as I spotted those windows, everything suddenly shifted into place in my head, and it all made sense again.  I knew where I was! I could place what had been there before in relation to where I was.  I wasn't lost anymore. It must have been a little like what people with Alzheimer's feel like when they have a flash of recognition about something they forgot a long time ago.

Most of my life I have spent living on the upper shelf of a valley.  Usually from the place I called home, I could see mountains quite close to the east, then an expanse of valley, and then, far to the west, more mountains.  Now, I live on the edge of the floor.  When I look to the west of me now, all I see is sky and water. And even though this place has been home for two years now,  all that space and sky makes me feel like I don't know where I am.   Two years, and  I'm still waiting for things to shift back into place.  It's like waiting for your ears to pop so you can feel normal in your head again.

I'm starting to think that it's not the place that is the problem. I am the problem.  My life is out of sync with me, and I can't figure out how to get things back to where they should be. All the familiar landmarks are in place except for me.  I'm not even sure where things "should" be anymore.  Are there any should's?   Needs?  Wants? Or is it just about what already is?  I thought that by this time, I would have had some of that figured out by now.

People read things like this, then they call me up and fret.  Please don't fret. Please don't worry.  I'm fine.  Really.  Things will pop back into place soon, I am sure of it.