Growing up in a town that never changes, it is always strange to return. The place seems frozen in time. The same store fronts line the streets, there are still only two stop lights, and the same people are still working at the same shops. It is like a comforting blanket, like something calling to me and letting me know that this is where I really belong. Then, suddenly, the spell is broken. Something is not the same. A piece of the puzzle of my childhood has been slightly reshaped and I realize that I have been gone for too long. Standing brand new, shiny, and proud a new high school rests where I went to elementary school (the new elementary school is located somewhere else entirely). The beach where I used to pretend to tan while I ate Subway sandwiches has been transformed from a sandy expanse to a truly impressive park complete with large works of sculptural art and signs proclaiming various things of historical significance. Around me the air seems to vibrate in an odd, earth-shattering way and the sound of breaking glass fills my ears as I make a startling realization: it is no longer my town, I am just another, temporary visitor.