Why couldn't Mom see that every moment was precious?
I’m surrounded by the familiar scent of lotion, ocean, freedom. Right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
I look up from the sand castle I’m building, shield my eyes with a hand to take it all in: there’s Mommy and Daddy, lying on their beach chairs, reading; Steve is flirting with the edge of the water, going up to his knees, then jumping back; and Michael… I scan the area. Where’d Mike go off to?
Before I have the chance to turn around, I see his fleeting shadow from the corner of my eye, and suddenly, Michael is crashing into my castle, laughing wildly. He’s a boy-man, his 15 years pushing past the constraints of his physical body, a sulky figure who will suddenly burst with energy.
And now he’s ruined my creation, the structures and turrets and moat, even the arrow-slits that Steve had helped me with. In shock, I just stare, stare, at this brother of mine, ten years my senior.
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