My mom's dad owned some land near a river where I grew up. He raised gladiolus in the summer time (he was a school principal) for extra money.

I remember my mom, and one of her girlfriends, taking us to the river, where grandpa had carved out a small beach. We would sit for the longest time, playing in the sand, wading in the river and just being kids. Mom packed a picnic (probably bologna sandwiches and homemade cookies, I don't remember) and it seemed like we had fun all day long.

Just a few years ago, mom told me she never liked beaches. I realized that she had sacrificed her wants for us. We enjoyed, and she enjoyed us, so we did.

I was one of the lucky ones growing up, and I know that now.
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