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“The sky was clear and the beat of the waves was almost hypnotic as Helen hung clothes on the line, watching Lyric through the flutters of dresses and blouses. In the child’s outfit of purple, she stood out against the churning waves. Each day, Lyric played in the ocean as if it was her first and last. As though she’d never seen water before, or as though tomorrow it would die and be gone. Its wonder never wore on her and Helen marveled at that, at how many things in this world would leave us utterly astounded if we weren’t so terribly used to them. Fire. Soap. Flavor in food. Though Lyric hadn’t smiled since that first day in the waves, Helen could see the child’s awe whenever she was shown something new. Her eyes would widen, and she’d give a quick gasp. Without a word, the girl had shown Helen how everything was a miracle, everything was sacred.” — Corinne Beenfield