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bottom, his teacher had written, Beautiful work.
I looked at my son.
“You know,” I said, “heroes can be scared.”
He rolled his eyes, embarrassed. “I know, Mom.”
“And they can be seven.”
His face softened.
“And they can be babies,” he said.
From the living room, Violet shouted, “I’m not a baby!”
We both laughed.
The sound filled the kitchen, warm and ordinary.continue reading …
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