In third grade Jack, who was adopted, and I thought it would be a good idea to dance on the ice on the creek that connected the pond on the left of the bike pathway in our neighborhood, to run alongside the basketball court and into a drainage sewer.
We were wearing black overall snow suits.
My jacket was blue and green and had snow goggles that made everything look sepia tinted, or in my 3rd grade mind, ‘the olden days.’
I thought that everyone lived in sepia tone before color was invented.
I had on a hat that I didn’t like to wear, because I believed that hats made me look weird, because my large ears were such a part of my life, and without them, I felt alien.
My brother was with us.
He didn’t think it was such a good idea and watched us from the bank.
Jack and I did a dance on the ice until it broke, and we were up to the armpits in cold dirty frog water.
We screamed and screamed, and I thought this was the end.
My brother laughed and laughed at us before pulling both of us out.
We then had to walk home, our tiny bodies frozen from shirking death.
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