This is an opinion column.

Going to the mall at Christmas in the 1980s was magical – the equivalent of lying on the floor beneath the tree flipping through the Sears catalog in the 1970s, only bigger, brighter, louder, gaudier. The mall’s decorations were glam-rock and oversized, made of glass and brass and glitter. You could get photos with Santa that materialized after a few minutes’ wait. The stores were sparkling and filled with the promise of treasure after a hunt – sometimes a long hunt because if you didn’t find it on the shelves, there was no vast internet to search.

All the food was in one place so that every family member could eat something different. There were escalators and elevators and fancy things called “mezzanines.”

After waiting in long lines of traffic, we’d have to park acres away from the main entrance – those giant, now-empty lots were once overflowing with cars – and we’d spend the entire day inside. The mall was a survivalist camp with everything we needed – food, clothing, drinking water that spouted from handy fountains, places to get your hair and makeup done, parts for your car, a variety of entertainment, pay phones for emergencies, even a drug store in case a blister arose.

I started high school in 1979 so, yeah, I grew up in a mall. It’s where we fought boredom, talked to cute boys, showed off the outfits we bought there, got our ears pierced, had those strips of tiny photos made in curtained booths, saw “Friday the 13th” Parts 1-6, and learned to make 10 bucks last all day – even if we purchased a $1.50 offering from the Great American Cookie Co., which was the price of an entire box of Girl Scout Cookies.

In those days, my hometown of Huntsville, Ala., had four malls: Heart of Huntsville, Parkway City, Dunnavant’s Mall and The Mall. As I graduated from high school, a “super mall” was under construction. Madison Square Mall opened in 1984. Advertisements called it the “Eighth Wonder” and extolled: “The Rocket City will never be the same!” And for a couple of decades, it lived up to its promise.

After most of the malls were closed and torn down, including Madison Square in 2017, I rarely shopped at traditional indoor malls. That was for a few reasons: 1) The nearest mall to my house is a 40-minute drive away, 2) I absolutely despise trying on clothes in brightly lit dressing rooms, and 3) outdoor shopping centers became a thing again.

But this Christmas shopping season, I found myself in a mall: Parkway City, now called Parkway Place. It had been nearly 10 years since I’d been inside…and I couldn’t have been more shocked if someone had dumped a frothy-cold Orange Julius on my head.

I figured it would be filled with all those stores from the 20-aughts that didn’t apply to me: Forever 21, Wet Seal, Abercrombie, Yankee Candle. Instead, it was like I’d been Glamour Shot: Many of the stores from the 1980s were still there. I had no idea. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch in a wave of nostalgia, then walked around in open-mouthed amazement.

There’s still a Hallmark store; a Hickory Farms booth (in a center kiosk); Belk, the first company I ever worked for; Claire’s; Bath and Body Works; Spencer’s Gifts, Hibbett’s, Zales Jewelry, and, of course, Great American Cookies.

But my DeLorean stalled and I realized Glamour Shots wasn’t the only store missing. There was no Things Remembered or K-B Toys, Parisian or Pizitz, RadioShack or B. Dalton Booksellers. There’s no theater now.

I was wistful for that very first feeling of awe at the novelty of getting all our errands done…indoors. Or the thrill buying my first eyeshadow palette with a variety of shimmery blues. Of using my $60 paycheck to purchase Kelly-green Gloria Vanderbilts, a pop-collar yellow Izod and Michelin Man-looking high-top Reeboks for the perfect school outfit.

Those memories are a gift I didn’t know I needed and, for a moment, I was caught in a warm bubble of time when my parents were still alive and all I had to worry about was homework and trying to get privacy while talking on a telephone attached to the family room wall. Of course, we can’t truly go back. The bubble burst and the feeling was gone. But, I reminded myself, I never really looked good in blue eyeshadow anyway.