METAMORA, Ind. — Scarlett Garrett takes a bite of cookies-and-cream ice cream. Then, she takes another one.
The 7-year-old does not have shoes on. Because here, shoes are not required.
“I love ice cream,” Scarlett said.
She shows me proof while I ask about her small hometown. Scarlett's walking through an ice cream parlor that also set a Guinness World Record for the largest collection of cookie jars (2,653).
“I love it,” Scarlett said. “And if we didn’t have the aqueduct, I’d probably be sad.”
It’s the second time she tells me her feelings about the historic aqueduct nearby. And this time, I didn’t even ask.
WATCH: The fight for survival in a small Indiana town
Before ice cream, Scarlett plays near that aqueduct.
Residents say it’s the last working one like it in the entire country. And it’s a huge draw for the small, unincorporated town that relies heavily on tourism to survive.
“Without that, we have nothing,” said Candy Yurcak, Scarlett's grandmother. “That’s why we worked so hard to save it.”
Yurcak is standing on the bridge above Duck Creek, watching her granddaughter skip rocks.
These days, the people who live there worry about the aqueduct every time it storms. And residents I spoke to say it's been in disrepair for years, leading to questions about the long-term future of the town itself.
“If we didn’t have it, we would have a waterfall here instead of this bridge,” said Cassie Garrett, Scarlett’s mom. “And eventually, the canal would dry up.”
And that canal is what put Metamora on the map — literally. Garrett tells me it's why this place exists at all.
Garrett is the regional director for Whitewater Publications, a news organization that covers Indiana. She initially reached out to WCPO 9 because residents were concerned about the lack of funding to preserve the canal and historic site around it.
“It’s an emotional thing, as silly as that sounds,” Garrett said. “This was like our Kings Island.”
On Monday, state officials visited to discuss $14.4 million in renovations planned for the site. Renovations residents say are long overdue.
Sitting on the front porch of her home décor business, Beverly Cox tells me she moved from Cincinnati and bought the home that she now works out of with her dad decades ago.
She likes that it's quiet. But sometimes, it's too quiet.
“I hope they fix all this before I die," Cox said. “It's just kind of gotten forgotten."
And at the aqueduct, Scarlett tells her mom she's better at skipping rocks than her. They disagree. Then, she asks her mom if they can come back tomorrow.
This was the first time I asked Scarlett about the aqueduct — and what it would mean if it continued to deteriorate. Initially, she didn't answer with words. Just a frown and a puffed-out lip.
Then, she elaborated with one short sentence:
"I'd be sad."
