She was 6 years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. She insisted on talking to me. "I'm building," she said. "I see that. What is it?" I asked, not caring. "Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand." That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper   glided by. "My mom says sandpipers come to bring us joy." "Good-bye joy," I muttered   to myself, "Hello pain," and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance. "What's your name?" She wouldn't give up. "Robert," I answered. "Mine's Wendy... I'm 6. Why are you so quiet?" I turned to her and shouted: "Because my mother died!" "Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day." "Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and - oh, go away!" "Did it hurt?" she asked. "Did what hurt?" I was annoyed with her, with myself. "When she died?" "Of course it hurt!" I replied angrily, misunderstanding. A month after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed, I went up to the cottage and knocked at the door. A young woman answered. "Hello," I said. "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was." "Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia . Maybe she didn't tell you." I had to catch my breath, saying nothing. "She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly... "She left something for you... if only I could find it," she said. "Could you wait a moment while I look?" It was a drawing in bright color1s- a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry," I muttered over and over, and we wept together. But then we looked at the picture of the sandpiper and slowly both of us began to smile, remembering the lesson that Wendy had left us. Even when life seems sad, joy can be found in the smallest of things. We should take time to seek out these little joys in life and live for the love that we have for each other. The author felt guilty when he saw Wendy was not on the beach, because he didn't   _  .
know the girl had a disease treat the girl nicely a month ago attend the girl's funeral keep his promise to meet the girl on the beach