And the shell becomes the metaphor

He pointed to other bumps in the shell. “And look on the outside,” he continued. “All of the red is gone, ground away by sand and rocks hitting it. Just think of it, Jesse. Waves and rocks and sand, over and over. For decades!”

 “Sounds like a hard life,” I commented, feeling a sense of awe.

“I’d say,” Grandpa agreed. “All these hardships and still, while the shell became worn out on the outside, the inside kept getting more and more beautiful.”

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