Strange Nostalgia

Yesterday afternoon I had my regular dentist appointment. Kathleen and I have been taking our appointments together for years and I swung by the house around 3:30 P.M. to pick her up and have a quick brush and floss. Dr. Fulton, our family dentist for years, has his office in a very cool 1950's era medical building right beside the Westerville library. It's made of stone and glass with big exposed wood beams - someone was paying attention to Frank Lloyd Wright.

But now the owner of the building has sold it to an engineering firm and the dentist office has to go. By some trick of fate, Kathleen and I were their last patients before they pack up and move. They'll first go to temporary lodgings before moving into a new space, not yet built. Everyone, including the dental hygienist to the receptionist to Dr. Fulton, seemed in no hurry to complete our cleaning and checkup. Each pointed out that I was their last patient. As I shook Dr. Fulton's hand some of their reluctance and sadness rubbed off on me. I've been visiting that interesting and convenient office for 20 years. Not only will it be a new office location, but Kathleen will take separate appointments and before long, be gone herself. Strange how these ordinary events shape and color our lives.