The place that holds the fondest memories for me, the marina that I lived at in San Pedro, California, from 1972 to 1975, has been completely redone, and no longer holds any resemblance of what it was those forty years ago. But I can still remember nearly every inch of it, as can many others who spent time there.
We carry the past in our minds, and it dies with us. Eventually, that marina will only be recalled from the photographs that remain, viewed by people who are too young to have a recollection of it. It won’t mean anything anymore. It will just be “that place” in the pictures. The marina that I consider “new” is the old marina to youth today. It’s the one they have grown up with. It’s where their memories are. It’s their past and their present.
The old place will continue to exist until the last of us who loved it are gone. All things in the past exist now, until those who carry that past, pass away.