I stepped across the worn concrete floor and swung open the heavy aluminum door with the chipping blue paint. I step into the auditorium where I am the only civilian. Even though it isn’t allowed, I cannot help but step onto the hardwood basketball court one last time. My black dress shoes struck the floor and the deep clack of the rubber heel echoed through the stadium, up the worn bleachers, through the old wooden stadium chairs, straight to the top of the V-shaped auditorium. I can feel the empty space under the floor. Every few steps, I feel the slight bow of the floor. In the middle of the court I stop, holding my sac-pack on one hand, water bottle in the other. In the surreal moment, the power is running through my muscles… that tingly, shaking, startling power. My eyes start to water and a single tear streams down my right cheek. The last time I will be in this historic place, and it’s time is so surreal. I step through the door opposite the one I entered the auditorium. Crowds of people fill the hall; conversing, slowly making their way to the door. The moment is over. I’m no longer in that dreamy state of serenity. Back to the hustle and bustle of exiting.

It was a place of solitude for many. Though the structure is no longer standing, the memories are still intact, and can never be demolished.