Home?

My home is ruined. I'm not kidding. In one particular place for which I feel a great deal of affection, at least half the import of the place has been stripped away, replaced with unfinished new wood. Every mark that has so engaged my mind for countless years has been not only attacked, but completely removed from my sight. Every carving that has exemplified my time spent there has been totally eradicated from the vicinity. The unintelligible markings on the eastern wall that had given rise to so much fond speculation have vanished.

Not only this, but the very entrance of my abode has been remade to look like that of other homes, and not like mine at all. The characteristics that so defined it in my mind are blotched out by new additions, and the smell is not that of my dwelling. It is the scent of newness, so unlike the aroma that has welcomed me upon my return every day prior to this. The sheer vastness of the entry has robbed the passage of its former closeness, its former protection. Bare and open, it is mine no longer.

In summary, the new additions to the Rec. Center are nice, and I'm sure a lot of people will enjoy the steam sauna (I will not be among them), but I can't help but feel that I've lost a part of my past with the remodling. Especially with the stripping of the sauna walls.