Then she lifted her chin.
“I’m beautiful no matter what.”
“You are.”
I said.
“But you don’t have to prove anything today.”
“I know.”
She looked toward the water.
“I want to go.”
So we went.
My ten-year-old son, Liam, ran ahead carrying the small digital camera
he had saved for almost a year to buy.
Photography was his obsession.
Sunsets.
Birds.
Shoes abandoned beside doors.
Half-eaten pancakes.
Anything could become important once Liam looked through a lens.
My sister Gwen had invited herself on the trip.
That description sounds unkind.
It is also accurate.
The vacation was originally supposed to be me, Maya, Liam and my
husband, Noah.
Two weeks before we left, Gwen called.
“I need Florida.”
She announced.
Apparently her social-media consulting business had been exhausting.
She wanted “content that didn’t look like work.”
She booked a nearby room and joined us.
At first, I did not
