"The sun, red and enormous, began to sink into the western sky. Simultaneously the moon began to rise on the other side of the river with its own glorious shade of red, coming up out of the trees like a russet firebird. The sun and the moon seem to acknowledge each other, and they moved in both apposition and concordance in a breathtaking dance of light across the oaks and the palms. My father watched it, and I thought he would cry again. He had returned to the sea, and his heart was a Lowcountry heart."