I wish I had a Wanda in my life when I was a kid.

I grew up scared of everything. My mom couldn’t swim, so we never spent time near water — and when she finally signed me up for swimming lessons, the instructor promised to catch me. I jumped. He wasn’t there. I never went back. Neither of my parents could ride a bike, so I grew up not only not doing something every other kid could do, but terrified to even try. Fear was the only thing anyone taught me.

When I look at all the things that Wanda can do, I wish I had someone like her in my life when I was a kid. I never even considered physical things — I stuck my nose in a book and it didn’t come out until high school, when I joined the tennis team, and even then it was only because my friends did. Wanda wouldn’t have waited for someone else to go first. She would have dragged me along, kicking and screaming if she had to, until I found out I could do it myself.

I doubt I’m the only one. Somewhere in your own story, there’s a version of that swimming pool — a thing you didn’t get to try. There wasn’t someone to show you how brave you could be.

I never did get past my version of the pool — I’ve told friends the fastest way to end our friendship is to push me in the water. But somewhere, a kid is standing at the edge of theirs right now.

I can’t undo my own fear. But I can make sure it doesn’t get passed down again. That’s what Wanda is — not proof that I got over my fear, but proof that you don’t have to, to still hand someone else their courage. She goes first so someone else doesn’t have to wait the way I did.