The thousands of other times I’ve been on this road of dirt and rocks, I was always a kid in the back seat of whoever’s car, moving fast to outrun our own dust. Today I am grown and driving, the road is paved. I am going to the church of my childhood to face my fears. I park in the gravel lot, hear the twangy guitars through the open doors. “Where the Soul Never Dies.” The ceiling fans wobble and creak like always. The carpet reeks of mildew. A dog sits in the front pew. The man is not here.
joj writes creative nonfiction. Their nomadic adolescence—mostly in the southern U.S.—planted in them an incurable wanderlust. They live (for now) in southern France with a partner and four children. Find joj on Twitter @jojthefirst, Instagram @jojthefirst, and sign up for their Substack at thejojshow.substack.com.