"yes, and yesterday and the day before and-oh, go away!"

　　"did it hurt? "

　　"did what hurt?" i was exasperated with her, with myself.

　　"when she died?" "of course it hurt!" i snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. i strode off.

　　a month or so after that, when i next went to the beach, she wasn`t there. feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself i missed her, i went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. a drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

　　"hello," i said. "i`m ruth peterson. i missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."

　　"oh yes, mrs. peterson, please come in" "wendy talked of you so much.

　　i`m afraid i allowed her to bother you. if she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."

　　"not at all-she`s a delightful child," i said, suddenly realizing that i meant it. "where is she?"

　　"wendy died last week, mrs. peterson. she had leukemia. maybe she didn`t tell you." struck dumb, i groped for a chair. my breath caught.

　　"she loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn`t say no.

　　she seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. but the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." her voice faltered.

　　"she left something for you...if only i can find it. could you wait a moment while i look?"

　　i nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman. she handed me a smeared envelope, with mrs. p printed in bold, childish letters. inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues-a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. underneath was carefully printed: a sandpiper to bring you joy

　　tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. i took wendy`s mother in my arms. "i`m so sorry, i`m sorry, i`m so sorry," i muttered over and over, and we wept together.

　　the precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. six words- one for each year of her life- that speak to me of harmony, courage, undemanding love. a gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color sand--- who taught me the gift of love.