The bar where my initials were once carefully poured into the foam crown of a Guinness every time I called, with a place setting waiting both in case I wanted a snack, and to save my favorite spot, is gone forever. It was my first local, a place close by where reliably stopping in and not causing too much trouble develops into an earned mutual welcoming. The place feels like a friend's living room - you know where to sit, they know what you like, and everyone slips easily back into the conversation you shared last time you stopped in. The whole experience, whether as a relief from the day, the glow of alcohol, whatever brought you back through the doors - it just feels warm. Like I said at the start, it's gone now. The place I mention hasn't been open for years, but what about your place? What about so many of these shared environments whose doors we'll never walk through again? What will it be like at the old regular tables and spots we used to take up now the ones who lived through America's epidemic experience may reopen? "Everything's changed," they tell us - but can anything be the same?