As he rowed back and forth, he thought: that’s life. You push and pull and sometimes things catch fire and sometimes they don’t. You keep going: that’s the key.

“I didn’t. It was a great idea. I’m just… distracted.” “Too distracted to be distracted?” Adeline laughed. “I guess so. That’s bad, isn’t it?” “It is. You need a vacation.”

That was the key to survival—doing better tomorrow than you did today. Getting up every day and improving.

He was amazed that his mind worked like that—he could remember the tiniest details that fascinated him (like dinosaurs), but most days he could barely remember what he did the day before.

Constance’s small home was styled like an English cottage. Inside, it was cozy, filled with art and personal pictures and large, plush furniture. Every wall was painted a warm color. The ceilings were all detailed, with painted shiplap and distressed brick. Constance led her to a living room at the back of the home, where a natural gas fire burned

For the past two weeks, the group of girls had heckled her mercilessly about her, in their words, “homemade hobo clothes.” Looking back now, Adeline figured it was simply the stress of starting school that made the girls lash out. Adeline had been an easy target. Her clothes looked different. So they picked on her.

Mentally, he formed an image of himself stepping out of the Absolom machine, holding his arms wide and Adeline and Ryan rushing to him,

her mother—and her strength. It reminded Adeline that even at the end, when she was so sick, she kept working on something to leave behind. That something wasn’t a grand monument, but a soft, sentimental gift, a blanket that would comfort her children on a cold night.

Of all the surprises life had dealt him, this was the biggest: to lose his life to his creation,