camera had represented theft.
Now it represented permission.
Maya walked toward the water.
Liam followed at a distance.
I sat beside Noah.
He squeezed my hand.
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The crying thing.”
“I’m not crying.”
“You absolutely are.”
I wiped my face.
“Don’t make it a moment.”
He laughed.
“That sounds familiar.”
Out near the water, Maya turned.
“Mom!”
“What?”
“Come in!”
I stood.
No phone.
No camera.
No need to preserve it for anyone.
I went into the water.
That is the part social media never understands.
Not every beautiful thing needs to become content.
Some things are allowed to belong only to the people living them.
My sister learned that painfully.
My daughter learned it young.
And my son somehow understood it at ten.
Gwen had pointed at Maya’s skin and called the family photographs
damaged.
Liam pointed at Gwen’s behavior instead.
One sentence.
One
