I thought nothing in the world could ruin that moment.

And then my sister arrived.

I want to dwell for a moment on what my daughter actually did on that beach, because I spent sixteen years believing I understood her problem and had it backward, and it took her walking into the sun to teach me the truth.

For all those years, I had thought that what Maya needed was for the world to change, for the other children to stop staring, for people to learn to see past her birthmarks to the girl underneath.

I had waged that war on her behalf, correcting cruel classmates and their parents, advocating with teachers, building around her a fortress of my own fierce love, all of it aimed at making the world treat her better.