ted rearrangement of tals. In t copy of a cy years ago, in 1949, I was a changeling who became a human again.

    I cside of town.

    On a late summers afternoon,  tree. Our cransformed myself into  facsimile. e grabbed o to scy found me t nig angry, as I ed. quot;; a red- said to me as I pretended to sleep in t smile. t and carried me out of to a paved road, ood ing, its red ligbeat. took me o s, to my ne nig t if t first test could be passed, the world would once again be mine.

    It is a commonly , among ts, tranger t into t. t so. In fact, ts eggs in ots, and despite its extraordinary size and voracious appetite, ternal care, often to t of driving ty imes tarves  de-mands. My first task o create tion t I unately, olerant of intruders in t.

    t t in te. After all, tent. As truck lurco ted against t red door, a vivid mess of acorn masercress, and tons of a number of small insects. tted me on t and all, as if I ten or an abandoned baby.  from to gatrong embrace and warm kisses reeking of smoke and alcoo fool.

    rayed ion: blotcy tears, ted and dis for me rembling ted a small s makes sleeve and  deep coloratura.

    quot;; So my s arms lengt;Let me look at you. Is it really you?quot;

    quot;Im sorry, Mom.quot;

    S .  beat against t  and un-comfortable.

    quot;You neednt tle treasure. Youre s all t matters. Youve come back to me.quot;

    Dad cupped t tableau mig t, crumbs spilling to the floor.

    quot;Im sorry I stole t, Mom.quo