We only had two Barbies, the cheap kind with the hollow legs sold at gas stations. We sat in the swift shallows of the low-water bridge, letting the dolls argue. Further downstream to escape our sharp play voices, Mom’s casted line repeatedly carved a hair-thin arc on the river’s murk. Our argument grew heated. By the time we noticed, the doll bobbed beyond reach. A hero on the opposite bank cast for her. We cheered him on. Mom tried casting, too, to no avail. We watched in wailing horror as our precious friend began her lonely journey to the ocean.
joj grew up an American nomad on Welfare. They now live, write and parent their four children in southern France. Find joj on Twitter @jojthefirst, Instagram @jojthefirst, and sign up for their Substack at thejojshow.substack.com.