“But I remember seeing a mess of leaves suddenly go skittering in the wind and into the creek, then floating rapidly down the creek towards the sea, making me feel a nameless horror even then of 'Oh my God, we're all being swept away to sea no matter what we know or say or do”

“Not even a repeat of Dawson’s Creek makes me feel better.”

“Tess," I say. "I'm going to head down to the water.I'll be back in a minute.""You sure you can make it by yourself?" she asks."I'll be fine." I smile. "If you see me floating unconscious out to sea,though-by all means,come and get me.”

“I imagine runningto the creek and diving in headfirst, the creek so shallow that my hands scrape against the rocks, and my bodyslides into the cold water, the shock of the cold giving way to numbness, and I would stay there, float down withthat water first to the Cahaba River, then to the Alabama River, then to Mobile Bay and the Gulf of Mexico.”

“You said we would go on a sea quest. What are we questing for? Why, fair winds, my pretty Kate, fair winds and wine-dark seas.”

“I Go Down To The ShoreI go down to the shore in the morningand depending on the hour the wavesare rolling in or moving out,and I say, oh, I am miserable,what shall—what should I do? And the sea saysin its lovely voice:Excuse me, I have work to do.”