Hometown

by K.C. Earls

Driving into my hometown, Mooresville, Indiana, I hear the familiar sound of jack hammers working on the new interstate and the flashing yellow caution lights. I feel at home when I drive through the poorly lit streets and past the one-story limestone homes. 

Passing through side streets and alleys, I am reminded of my childhood here. I can smell the fresh cut grass during the spring months of April and May. The grass was always bright green from the copious amounts of rain we receive in early April. The old men strive for perfectly trimmed grass with diagonal patterns to show. I remember walking down Indiana Street and smelling the gasoline from the original, family-owned gas station. Walking down Indiana Street you get a view of the outdated high school with the run-down tennis courts sitting just across the street. The smell of puddle water is pungent as you walk past the four-way stop sign that always floods when there is more than two inches of rain. 

During the summer months, the smell of chlorine from the public pool fills the town. As I ride my bike to the public park, I can feel the broken and cracked concrete beneath me. The smell of hot blacktop from the shared park and pool parking lot burns my nostrils. I find comfort in the familiar screams of children sliding down the singular, blue water slide at the pool. The air is scorching, but the humidity is worse. Summer comes to a halt with the Old Settlers parade and festival. I can feel the burn on my skin from the cheaply made bounce houses and the drop in my stomach when I ride the 30 foot Ferris wheel as it shakes from the summer breeze. 

The fall brings the vibrant color of leaves. The orange, yellow, green, and red oak leaves brighten up the town. The smell of pulled pork, hotdogs, warm pretzels, and nacho cheese invites me to the high school football field. The atmosphere is welcoming and exciting. The familiarity of old friends, smiling parents, little league coaches, and elementary teachers can make anyone feel a sense of belonging. You can hear the local old men talking about the starting lineup for the first game of the season. You can hear the moms of each player bragging about their son’s accomplishments and even the faint chants from the cheerleaders on the track.  The fall also brings the smell and taste of biscuits and gravy. The local restaurants are in constant competition to see who can have the most cars in their parking lot on Sunday morning. Once you finally find a seat, the smell of grease and gravy overwhelms you. The sweet taste of chocolate milk after a long morning at church is the most satisfying part of the weekend. The harmonious sound of church bells ringing and the locals talking about the Friday night football game grounds me. 

Winter comes much too fast every year. The roads begin to smell of salt preventing icy sidewalks, and the smell of grass disappears. The first snow brings a glowing atmosphere to town but is quickly diminished by the muddy slush left on the sides of the road after a morning of travel. The bulky Carhartt coats and black snow boots begin to fill the town as locals scrape their Chevy truck windshields. The Victorian Christmas celebration fills Main Street with home-made chocolate chip cookies and warm hot chocolate. The elementary students use their best handwriting to quickly write Santa a letter while he is still visiting the celebration. As Christmas comes to an end, there are houses left with burnt out Christmas lights and the streets are littered with ripped up wrapping paper waiting to be picked up by the garbage trucks. The town quickly turns their conversation to the high school basketball team. The smell of pizza fills the high school cafeteria as students excitedly discuss the homecoming basketball game at lunch.  

The changing seasons and community celebrations bring the small town together. The familiarity of greasy breakfast and the smell of chlorine fill me with comfort. Construction work will never be finished as there are too many sidewalks, streets, and parking lots to ever be fixed, but seeing the liveliness of the people and the trees remind me of my love for my hometown. The town is small, but big enough for me.