J.J. stands on an empty beach at the edge of the Pacific Ocean. The slant of the setting August sun turns his hair into a mess of copper coils.
With a sharp squeak of glee, wearing nothing but droopy Spiderman undies, he races full speed into the water, his little arms pumping.
His eyes alight. Fearless. “No, no!” I cry, alarmed by his determination and certain the incoming wave will knock him down. He’s only 4 years old and he’s tiny.
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