Today was my last day as Tioli's.

It has been crazy here for the week, and today Charlie and Leo clearly couldn't bear to be here any longer. I know I shouldn't take it personally, since they have been so sad for a while. But now, Charlie says she will "walk through" me tomorrow and then hand in her keys.

People were coming to see me like it was Christmas season. Something about how Leo and Charlie had marked things for $1.00 but would take a quarter instead brought people into me like never before.

A customer exclaimed, "I wish I knew you were having a sale, I just finished making a huge order to Dick Blick." Dick Blick is some guy who seems to live on a thing called an internet and put me out of business, or something like that.

I wondered why they didn't just make everything the new price and keep me open. Guess it doesn't work that way.

Another customer informed them, "You’re getting low on your stock." Which Charlie usually thinks is nice of people to let her know, but she didn't seem grateful today.

The knitters were in for class today, too. It was nice to have them here with me on my last day as this particular place. They are a lively bunch, and I will feel especially quiet without them.

Someone I've never seen before came in and said, "Oh man, I’m so sad you’re leaving. Do you have any artist supplies?"

"Are you really going out of business?" a woman asked as she browsed.

"As opposed to what?" Charlie muttered.

Jack the dog has a little sister, I found out. She came in and visited today. She didn't do any of the stuff that Leo and Charlie thought she might do. And she did something they didn't think she would: she ate rat poison from one of my dark corners. So, while the knitters were being festive, and the customers were lining up, Leo ran the puppy to the vet to make her vomit and Charlie rang up sales. Boy, these people know how to go out with a bang.

I think that Charlie may have been over her stress-load capacity today, though. One customer asked her why she was going out of business and she snapped, "Apparently there is a worldwide recession thingy."

To which the customer cheerily agreed and added, "I've lost everything."

Another customer agreed about the tough times, adding, "It’s really bad on the island. I’m moving to the mainland. The vog is eating my teeth."

"How can we help?" Leo and Charlie's friends are asking.

"What can we do to save the place?" I think they are talking about me.

I didn't know I was in danger. They are giving me the freak out, because I know that my foundation is solid. Sure, I had that little leakage problem, but that depends on whether you attribute it to me or the holes they cut into me for doors, windows, and air conditioners. We all dribble a little. And they fixed that.

So, I wonder what they mean by saving me. From what? Sure, I'm fond of these people, and all the weird doo-dads they have stuffed into me. I like all the colors they added. Most places don't get to see this much color, I think. Well, Sherwin does, but it's always contained. Me, I'm full of a riot of color.

Although, many of the colors on the displays have stayed empty longer than usual. Is this what they mean by "save"? Maybe they are wondering how they can get the colors filled up faster.

That's an easy one, to me. They just need to come in more often and buy more colors! I've seen how it works. Someone buys the things, Leo and Charlie use the money to get more, and then it starts again. So, really, they are confused. I don't need saving. I need more people breezing through me and picking up an item or two.

And really, I don't need that. I only need that if they want to keep calling me Tioli's. I've been other things. I'll be other things. I just wanted to play this way a little longer.

Charlie closed me early today. I think maybe she got her feelings hurt, but she's not saying.

Here's what happened: Leo opened shop, and Charlie came in later. Charlie got a call on her thing that has no cords connected to me, and it was her sister. Apparently she called to see how I was doing, and Charlie told her, "Well, it's Leo, Jack (the dog), and me here, and it's an hour into the day. I think we've had one customer so far." Her sister must have said something about things getting better, because Charlie picked up her chin, but I could see she was feeling down.

When Charlie's friend came in, though, I was sure that things were going to look up. This was a woman who always spoke lovingly to Charlie and encouraged her to be brave. However, as time unfolded, the woman pulled one, then two, then three bags of yarn out to show to Charlie... from internet purchases. They were beautiful yarns, and very inspiring, as Charlie said. Then the woman handed Charlie three balls of yarn to return to me. Charlie did the return, and gave the woman store credit, and chatted. But after the woman left, I could see that something was really wrong with what went on. Even though Charlie clearly loved seeing the yarns, she was defeated in her demeanor.

Charlie went into the bathroom, and then came out and announced to Leo, "I'm glad for that visit today. It shows me the difference between talking like a friend and acting like one. Also, it ticked me off enough to get me out of my slump. Now that I'm angry, I have some energy to keep going."

And with that, she closed shop for the day, with dollars in returns outnumbering dollars in sales. What kind of doing business is that?

It was at the start of summer that things changed. People just stopped coming in to me, driving by with focused expressions on their faces, not looking to the side or slowing at all.

Leo and Charlie took a while to notice the change. Then Nan mentioned it, "Barely anyone's coming in. I wonder what's going on?"

Across the street is a new guy, Sherwin Williams. I didn't know how to address the building now, like, "Mr. Williams" or if it was okay just to call it Sherwin. I asked Sherwin Williams (I decided I'd better just use the full name in my approach) about how busy they have been, or not, but since it is new in the neighborhood, it didn't have a relevant answer.

Polly (Polynesian Adventure Tours) and I are the old buildings in the area. But Polly hasn't talked to me in a while, thinking it is disloyal to her owners who are in the same business as my owners, Roberts Tours. (Charlie and Leo are just camping here, called "renting", for while they do their Tioli Creative Center business.)

Hey, since I'm owned by Roberts and rented by Tioli's, I guess I could be called Robert Tioli. I'll have to tell Sherwin Williams to call me that. Polly would laugh at my formal name for myself since she's pretty much always called me Rob.

Anyway, I feel like both the people and the structures have forgotten something.

The feeling from the people is that their money is going away. From the rising numbers on Tesoro's signs all summer, I would guess that money is going into the box that pumps out through a hose to their cars. Some day I'll understand why they don't just put the paper straight into the holes in the cars.

The feeling from the buildings is that they are going to sit vacant and not be kept up. I fear that too, I have to admit, since my yard guy just told Charlie that he hasn't been paid for four months, so he's not going to work for the landlords any more until he gets paid. I could see Charlie thinking about how to fix that situation and I wanted to yell at her that it's not her kuleana, but she seems determined to mix in. It means that I'm going to get all itchy again, though, with trash and plants growing up right against me, and the cats and bugs taking over. I was just feeling pretty trim and neat, with many of my sidewalks uncovered and restored. I haven't told the other buildings about the yard guy because it would just add fuel to their fears.

But the fact is that we're all going to die. The humans will go before us, unless there is an earthquake or lava flow or tsunami... you know, something that the earth does to shift around and get more comfortable. But over time, deep time, we will all pass into oblivion, and all my conversations with the other structures will cease their echoes. Our steel will rust, our cement crumble, and we will change form. All rooms are ruins.

It seems to me that since nothing lasts forever, we would do well to remember to be in this together (because we are). I find myself wishing that Polly would talk with me, that she would put away the word competition and let us cooperate to help both our owners do well. We could be having conversations about how to best meet our responsibilities of sheltering those who inhabit us, and how to comfort and encourage the buildings that lose their tenants. I've heard Charlie and Leo talking about how they need to continue to put money into their retirement account even though they can't afford to pay themselves. They seem to have the idea that time can be leveraged to their gain. This got me thinking. What if there are other ways to profit from change and not have it all be loss?

Over time I've come to see that if we can be patient, there is a positive trajectory to change. There is a bigger blueprint that I haven't completely seen, but get a sense of it being there under all our structures. I've seen that when people look to find the blueprint, there is a longevity to their efforts that doesn't exist when they act like today is how things will always be, no matter how wildly various each today.

This is what all of us are forgetting: Nothing lasts forever in its form. Whether people drive by or come in to the store will change some momentary things, such as losing Nan to a lay-off, and having a lot less stuff packed inside of me, and even whether Leo and Charlie will be the ones inside of me for much longer. But we all forget that these changes come in time anyway. It's the arrival of change sooner than we expect it that gets to us.

And then we forget to expect change at all.

The dog is spoiled rotten. I'm glad to see the change, actually, from the terrified creature that it started as to the entitled silken-furred beggar that it has become. Such a rough start as Jack had deserves a rich finish.

Jack snoops into each of the knitting Aunties' bags when they arrive for class. He learned this from a handful of women who consistently bring him a new toy or treat when they visit. He also stares at them until they finish off a plastic bottle of water or soda, waiting for it to be loaded with his regular food and bits of treats as a toy. Some of the women have gotten into the habit of guzzling their beverages just to get the dog his recycled toy as soon as possible. The dog is spoiled rotten.

One of our regulars, Jesus, was in yesterday. He watched as Charlie doled out dried chicken strips to Jack each time he asked to go out and do his business. Charlie started watching Jesus more closely, wondering what his interest was in this exchange, and worrying a little for Jack because Jesus is also always hungry. Jesus was looking at Jack like a steak.

Shortly after this strange stare-down, Jesus asked, "Charlie, those beefs you have over there," referring to the chicken strips in the cookie jar decorated with dogs playing and topped with a ceramic dog-bone handle, "Are those for people?"

"Oh, they're chicken." Charlie corrected. "And they're for the dog."

"You know what?" Jesus grinned, "I been eating them for a month or more now."

Charlie laughed. She couldn't help it: Jesus had been getting into her snacks for months now without asking permission, so it seemed like a form of justice that Jesus had ingested dog treats because of not asking first.

"Ohmygod, I was thinking that they was some sort of health food, you know?" Jesus continued. "No salt, like that. Ohmygod, seriously."

Charlie laughed harder and then said the strangest thing, "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry!"

"That's alright," Jesus continued the strange reversal of apologies and forgiveness, "I been taking 'em home for a while now and eating 'em for snacks, thinking they was health food or something. You oughta try 'em, Charlie, they last for a while. You know? You chew and chew..."

Charlie just laughed and promised to tell Jesus' story to everyone. As Jesus left, he let out a little bark and exclaimed, "Oh! They changing me!!"

In telling the knitter Maria about the dog treats and Jesus, Maria muttered, "Such a Mexican, eating the dog food."

Charlie protested the self-slander of Maria's race, "Oh no, no, it's not like that. Jesus has addiction problems and he loses everything often. He's almost homeless. So, I imagine that he is hungry a lot of the time."

When Maria tried again to make a racial comment, Charlie shifted the focus. "There are so many aspects of the story that surprise me, but I think the most astounding is that he admitted to pocketing a bunch of the meat for snacks."

Maria laughed, "What are you complaining about? He stole your Dog Snacks!!"

Charlie and Leo have been under structural duress. I can see the signs of strain on their supporting columns and the curve of gravity getting to their crosspieces. From what I can see, their difficulty is related to the things that people pass over the counter surface in trade for items that I have stored inside of me. When people trade a lot, Charlie and Leo seem to straighten up and have less of a load on their roofs. When people just talk about trading, or complain about how many pieces of paper or plastic or metal will be required of them to trade, my peoples' shoulders drop and they walk a little more slowly.

I wonder, is the paper that moves over the counter magical in some way? I see nothing special about it. Some of it is really quite untidy and unkempt. But people seem to value it more than anything else I've seen, including each other.

I get the sense that these pieces of paper are what keep Charlie and Leo here inside of me. It seems like they worry that they won't always be able to do what they are doing here. Their worry is silly. Of course they won't always be able to do what they're doing here! People wear out. (So do buildings and structures, but I've heard that a human year is like seven building-years.)

The Tesoro station is saying that its people are having the same visible sag. The gas station thinks that people should be happy because the numbers they put outside on its sign keep going higher and higher, which must mean things are getting better and better. More is almost always better, unless it's snow on your roof.

That's what everyone is acting like: as if they have too much snow on their roofs. But it doesn't snow in Hawaii. What is their problem?