what memories are for

Just bumped into Stan at the local Chinese place. He told me he was working like a dog at his father's restaurant. Told me Jessica was busy too. He's had no time to drink like he used to but stops at Paulie's every now and then to say hello to all the old faces. 

It's changed, he said. The old place we used to go to is long gone, replaced with new faces, young and old alike, too busy to pay mind to anything but the pounding music and the watered down gin and whatever game happens to be on the humongous TV hanging on the brick wall. Conversations are few and far between, he said. 

Sometimes he walks in, smiles and waves a hello to the last bartender left from the old days, looks about to see if there are any familiar faces and then walks over for a warm hug and a quick chat. 

When he leaves, he's in reverse. One thing has changed though. He walks home thinking, "I wish things were the same, but I also wish them to be like they are now." A balance, if you will. A mixture  of the old and the new in the present. We all know that's impossible and that's what memories are for.