Maumelle is… well, Maumelle is what Maumelle is. A bedroom community. Nothing more than a resting spot for the workers of bordering cities to come home and sleep, spend some time with their families, and then head back to their jobs across the river.
I guess it could be a sleeper cell of some kind, but that would give it some kind of mystique that it surely does not possess.
I usually find myself blowing through town in the earliest of the AM - after work, to stop at the e-z-mart to get a little bit of gasoline to feed my van and some gasoline of another nature to feed myself - usually in the form of Vault. I stay for about an hour or so to talk to my roommate Robby, and then I’m off to Crystal Hill to say hello to my dog, and then hit the sack for the night.
It’s always quite amazing to me to see how much Maumelle changes - almost as if completely overnight. Like little creatures come out of the wood work when everyone is asleep and start reshaping the landscape to their liking. In another 10 years, I probably won’t even be able to recognize the town in which I spent a good 19 years of my life in.
Part of me doesn’t regret it at all - but the other part, the part that is ingraved with the sounds and the smells of this place, almost wishes that for just a few moments, time could just stand still, and I could bask in the warm and familiar glow of a town to which I think I once knew.