Southern California. A sunny afternoon.
A tiny life ring bobbed at the far end of the pool, where a cluster of children splashed and played.
A group of friends relaxed, conversing at the other end of the pool, enjoying the weekend.
Except for one. My wife was carefully surveying the children.
And the empty life ring.
The one our toddler son, occupied moments earlier.
She rose suddenly.
The world shifts in those seconds.
Jared wasn’t among the group of children.
So, oxygen deficiency? Genetic damage? Hard to say. But our son Jared is not like others.
Personally, I lean toward the genetics angle.
My paternal grandfather was the craziest, funniest, over-the-top man I’ve ever known.
Grandpa was a small pugilistic drunk. He stumbled over grace one day, and discovered a God who loved him unconditionally. He was never the same.
It did nothing, however, to allay his crazy, merciless sense…
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