“But I go back down near the water with Steppa to look for treasure. We find a white shell like a snail, but when I curl my finger inside, he's gone out. "Keep it," say Steppa. "But what about when he comes home?”

“I watch his hands, they're lumpy but clever. "Is there a word for adults when they aren't parents?"Steppa laughs. "Folks with other things to do?”

“The thing about a hero, is even when it doesn't look like there's a light at the end of the tunnel, he's going to keep digging, he's going to keep trying to do right and make up for what's gone before, just because that's who he is.”

“Of course, when we got home, we found that Dagda had peed on my down comforter. He had also eaten part of Mom's maidenhair fern and barfed it up on the carpet. Then he had apparently worked himself into a frenzy sharpening his ting by amazingly effective claws on the armrest of my dad's favorite chair. Now he was asleep on a pillow, curled up like a fuzzy little snail. "God, he's so cute," I said, shaking my head.”

“What were you dreaming about?""You." He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. "I always dream about you.""Oh, yeah? Because I thought you were having a nightmare."He tipped his head back to look at her. "Sometimes I dream you're gone," he said. "I keep wondering when you'll figure out how much better you could do and leave me.”

“When I see a beautiful shell like that I can't help feeling a regret about what's inside it.”