Rural areas across the country are dotted with tiny towns that exist only in name if not in reality. In fact, most of them don’t even make the map anymore including a little place called Stella which isn’t far from my home. All that’s left today is a church and an old general store that was shuttered when I was young.

It opened in 1887 and changed hands some over the years. When I was small, it was owned by Shag and Helen Fout, an elderly couple who had run the place since the late sixties.

I don’t remember much about the interior anymore and would absolutely love to see inside again. There were creaky wood floors and a big pot bellied stove. That, I remember. I also remember the smell, a scent that I can’t begin to describe here but that represents the passage of time in my mind.

I also remember going there at Christmas to buy bulk Christmas candy. They had big bins and you left with candy scooped into paper bags. It was tradition to go there for candy every year and I looked forward to it.

It’s funny because this place rarely bubbles to the top of my mind but I always revisit those memories as the holidays near. A part of me wishes to go back for a little bag of chocolate covered peanuts or little milk chocolate stars.