I sat with Dana on the sand. The wind had picked up, and I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I was pretty little when I first started to move things,” Dana told me, “It was…ugly. At first.” She smiled. “Whenever I got angry or really upset, things would jump around the room.” She laughed. “It used to scare the hell out of my dad.” “I’ll bet,” I said, thinking of my own experience with the hairbrush. I smiled as I imagined it chasing my mom around the house. “This one time?” Dana told me, still laughing. “I blew out the dining-room window. Just boom! It was totally an accident. I had no idea I could do that. I was super pissed about something stupid—I don’t even remember what anymore. “When I was a little older, I realized that if I could channel those intense emotions, I could use them to move things intentionally. But it took serious practice,” she continued.
