By Hailey Heinz

It was one of those 1 a.m. phone calls. It jolted me from slumber into a state of semi-panic, trying to get oriented and prepare for the worst. In the process of grasping for my phone, I nearly fell off my bunk bed. Was someone hurt? Dead? Stranded? It was worse than all these. Nothing, however awful, could have prepared me for this phone call. The caller was a friend four time zones away in Alaska who had called to let me know my favorite restaurant had closed its doors forever. He had considered the four-hour time difference, but decided that I needed to be immediately informed. I responded with total shock and disbelief, and then with a feeling of sorrow. This was far worse than I had feared.

Despite my tone of half-joking melodrama, I sincerely did feel sorrowful. In fact, I kind of wanted to cry.

Thai Siam was a small but friendly restaurant, located in a strip mall less than three minutes from my house. You would never know to look at it, but it served the best food in the entire world. Period. When I ate a fresh roll from Thai Siam, my worst troubles dissipated into insubstantial vapor.

Thai Siam is the only place I’ve ever had a “usual.” I just said I wanted my usual, and I got exactly what I wanted, with my own modifications, complete with a Diet Coke. After a while, our waitress no longer offered me a menu. She knew what I needed.

Over the years, I brought just about everyone I met to this delightful haunt of mine. I felt everyone should know the glory of Thai Siam. Friends, boyfriends and parents all became as thoroughly hooked as I, and I ate there with ever-increasing frequency. Thai Siam has been the setting for reunions with old friends, reconciliations, fresh new relationships and long-lasting ones. I went there to calm my nerves before my driving test, and to celebrate anything worth celebrating. Truthfully, I went there any time I got the chance. I try not to think about how much money I spent there over the years, or how many calories worth of noodles I consumed. It was worth every bit of it.

A few days before I left for college, a group of dear friends accompanied me to Thai Siam for one last round of fresh rolls. The occasion was significant to us because it marked our last fresh rolls for a long time. Little did we know it would be the last ever.

And now my restaurant is apparently gone, and I have to say I’m feeling a little bit betrayed. How dare they close my restaurant while I wasn’t there to say goodbye? I turned my back on home for two weeks, and already things are falling apart without me. I feel a certain amount of personal responsibility as well. We used to joke that I was Thai Siam’s primary source of income, since I brought in so many new customers, and created so many addicts. When I went off to college, they lost that constant flow of new clientele. As absurd as it sounds, I feel just a little bit guilty that I went off and left them to struggle and fold. They served me faithfully for so many years, and then I just up and left.

Thai Siam was more than just good food to me. It was a vital component of home, high school and carefree good times. It represented chatting with my mom, laughing with friends and eating out with boyfriends. It was a place of comforting familiarity, where I could rely on the exact same waitress, the same food and the same satisfied feeling when I was done. I was already looking forward to having some fresh rolls at Christmas break. Now, I’m going home to a Mexican restaurant where my fresh rolls used to be.

The loss of my favorite restaurant makes me sad, not just because I’ll miss the food, but because it represents a larger idea. Home is changing. I’m gone, and home is marching on without me. My restaurant is gone, my high school is undergoing major renovations and when December comes, I won’t be returning to quite the same place. Friendship dynamics will inevitably shift, and I probably won’t be quite the same person either. The security of home is shifting, and there’s really nothing I can do about it. Tomorrow I will try a new Thai restaurant.

– Hailey Heinz is a freshman journalism major.