At yesterday’s in-person Run to Write club, we used this writing prompt: What is the first thing you bought with your own money?
Today’s story is inspired by this question—
My boots sank into the muddy pasture. Rain collected on my nose and dripped onto my Carhartt jacket. I weaved around cow poop. Where could she be?
I squinted my eyes as the rain splashed up onto my jeans. I hoped we would find her soon. I jumped over the creek and headed toward a clump of trees further up the hill. A black and white figure lay on the ground.
Is that her?
I quickened my pace. My Dad was a few strides ahead. Oh, I hope it's a boy. Dad said he would give me some money if it were a bull calf. I whispered a prayer: Please have it be a boy. I really wanted the Jem doll. You know the TV show from the 80s—Jem and the Holograms.
Anyways, my Dad lifted the leg of the calf and confirmed that it was a bull. I smiled. The hike uphill, in the rain, my Dad's cursing was worth it for $10.
I would get to buy myself a toy. I wouldn't have to wait until my birthday or Christmas. I would get something new, all my own—the Jem doll.
My Dad bent over and carried the baby down the hill while I ushered the mom to follow. We would bring them both to the barn. The calf would be sold, and this time, my Dad would give me some of the money.
A few days later, the crisp $10 bill was in my hand, and my Mom agreed to drive me to Kmart to buy the Jem doll. I was on cloud nine. When I got home, I bounded up the stairs two at a time, clutching the Kmart bag against my chest.
I sat on the wooden floor as my fingers tore at the plastic packaging, and with one final rip of the cardboard backing, I lifted Jem into my hands. Her hot pink hair sparkled. A distinct scent of fresh plastic and synthetic fabric wafted up—that unmistakable new toy smell. My cheeks ached from smiling. My very own Jem, purchased with my very own money.
Tell me, what is the first thing you bought with your own money?
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