I was driving down North 7th the other day, heading home, and I noticed they’re putting up another one of those new buildings. It’s tall, mostly grey, with lots of windows. I remember when that corner used to be just a little house, the kind with a porch swing. Mr. Henderson lived there. He used to wave when I drove by.

It got me thinking about how much everything is changing. You see these new places pop up, and they fill in all the empty spots. Folks say they’re bringing more homes, which is good, because houses are hard to find. But sometimes I wonder who those homes are for, and what kind of life they’ll hold.

My neighbor, Dale, who’s been here longer than most of the pine trees, says it feels like the town is filling up but getting emptier at the same time. He means the way people used to know each other. Now, you mostly just see folks hurrying in and out of those tall buildings.

I guess progress is progress. Things don’t stay the same. But I do miss the quiet hum of a town where you knew who lived in each house, and every porch had a story. Now it’s more of a busy buzz, and you can’t always tell one window from the next.

Phyllis Grainbelt has lived in the Gallatin Valley her entire life and remembers when the Co-op was just a co-op. She does not elaborate on what this means.