By Jennifer Brookins

young girl

A little Punjabi girl with long black hair and denim coveralls, triggered this feeling of déjà vu:

“The year is almost over; I’ve hardly had time to fly my kite or make a party dress for my magic skin doll. And, doncha know the roof on my tree house still has a big hole in it. Why is it that everything I love goes away, but what I can’t stand hangs around forever? I think I’ll go to Willard’s Drugstore, and have a cherry phosphate. Sitting at the counter helps me figure out stuff.”

© jb

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