After an hour in the kitchen his little foot starts to extend looking for something to grasp. "He's alive, Lucky is alive!" shouts my first grader. I didn't know he had a name. And so begins a debate about what to do with our new friend.
I advocate for returning him to the ocean. My daughters want to keep him and take care of him. My husband thinks it is too late to save him so we might as well keep the shell. We talk about what he needs to survive and what would make him happy. Finally we agree Lucky should go back to where he was found. We bring him to the surf and my daughters say a long goodbye. They gently toss him into the water and I can see my older daughter is about to cry.