If you are lucky enough to live in an upstairs apartment in the middle of downtown (not sure how I made the grade), the view is lovely. Two large old trees grace the square, and the old brick buildings hold so much mystery and history in their walls.
If you go for a walk, you never know what will happen. For instance, recently I was marching down the street minding my own business when suddenly I heard someone call my name. Surprised, I turned around to see who on earth knows me in Mocksville, and here it was the owner of the new coffee shop that just opened today. “Come in,” he said, “And I’ll make you a free latte. I need more practice.” Who is to turn down an offer like that?
And if you are a walker, not only might you get a free latte, but you never run out of places to go. There are so many wandering little streets with adorable houses, or you can walk to the library and take a break there to get lost in its aisles, or the park is close enough to walk to, with its lovely trails. Main Street is hard to beat too, especially if you make up stories to go with each of the grand houses as you go by. The house with the shutters that look like scary eyebrows? Probably belongs to a villain. The grand old southern mansions with magnolia trees must needs be inhabited by classic southern belles with their big dresses and big hair and drawls. The house with its windows closed probably houses a famous author who is trying to hide from his public life. Really, I can’t go often enough to all my favorite spots to satisfy myself.
You think small towns lack entertainment? Think again. With a Daniel Boone festival each year, bed races to look forward to (yes, you heard correctly), random street musicians, farmers’ market each week during the summer, and several dollar stores to shop at, why would we ever need to leave?
O’Callahan’s deserves a paragraph all its own. Go. Eat the fried pickles or Reuben bites.Admire the ceiling tiles. Try the whiskey mustard. Thank me later.
Since Mocksville is the closest town for a lot of my friends, I never know who I might run into. Pie with a random person at the restaurant across the street? Check. Sitting in the Secret Garden and hearing all about a friend’s new love interest? Check. Waking up at night to people trying to climb onto the roof beside our house? Check. Tagging along to meetings I don’t belong at, just for the food at O’Callahan’s? Check.
Of all the places I’ve called home (what is it by now, fifteen houses?) Mocksville is fast rising to the top of the list. Come see me here and we’ll go out for fried pickles and ice cream. Not eaten together.