It had been a long while since Vernon had been here last. So much has changed. So much has evolved. Gone were the expansive railroad yards and industry that spotted the area. Gone was the dirt and grime that coated the streets, abandoned warehouses and blue-collar cafes, giving his former home an industrial charm that in all his travels, has rarely experienced since. The street names have stayed the same, of course. But the rest...well, the section of Portland now aptly referred to as the "Pearl District," bore little resemblance to the neighborhood he remembered as a child.
As he stared out the window, flashes of memories returned to him. What was now a small park in the center of the neighborhood, once stood one of the many columns that held up the ominous Viaduct, now long demolished to open up the streets for the development of art galleries, loft apartments and a number of seemingly over-priced restaurants and boutiques. It was beautiful, in it's own way, but met him with a sense of bittersweet nostalgia. His former home had long disappeared.
"11th and Everett," the conductor announced over the intercom. This was his stop. Vernon stood, wheeled his bag behind him and stepped off the trolly. Young professionals and a number of commuters stepped off around him, each hurriedly making their way to work in the brisk chill of the morning. He took a deep, long breath. Even the air was different, fresh, clean...unfamiliar.
With a long, heavy sigh, he turned to cross the street and started walking east, towards the river. It was there, in the heart of the city he once knew, he would reunite her remains, those of his long lost love; the woman he had not forgotten after all these dozens of years, with the waters upon where they had first met.
There were familiar moments as he strolled along; the Park blocks and the century-old facades of Old Town stroking memories of a simpler time. Yet, even China Town was different...abandoned, empty...even desolate, save for the occasional beggar. He closed his eyes and shook his head in sadness. He knows that she would've done the same.
The water-side markets and docks underneath the Morrison Bridge were a distant memory now. Condominiums and High-rise apartments had spawned in their place, another reminder that this was no longer the city he had once known. As he approached the promenade railing, the familiar scent of the river waters rose up to greet him. It would be close. Vernon casually paced up and down the promenade, bicyclists and joggers passing him as he searched, silently, until at least he found it; the unassuming, iron-cast mooring post, carved with the initials VC & BD. It had been painted over a few times, but the outlines were still there. He could make it out. And he breathed a sigh of bittersweet relief.
He would turn the ring thrice upon his finger, the ring she had gifted to him in their youth...the ring he had never since taken off. He would apologize for not being there for her all this time, for allowing her to live her life without him. He would tip his hat, and wish her farewell. He would leave, never to return, and would travel again, from city to city, from town to town, reclaiming the way of life he's ever only really known...with her memory haunting him, every step of the way.
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