The Cottage "In life, you can reject change or go with the flow, and you'll be content if you can learn to roll with it, Francisco," his grandmother had always advised.

"Easier said than done," Francisco muttered to himself as he stopped his bike with a gentle pat of his foot against the dirt path that led to the cottage.

He was stopping to sit back on the seat of his bike and just look at the cottage. He tried to look without seeing the "For Sale" sign that his father had just driven into the rose garden last night. Watching Pops drive the sign into the ground was like having a cold knife driven into his back. The prospect of leaving the cottage made Francisco feel like he'd been slapped down by a cold wave on a hot beach; this little house by the sea had been his home since he was two. image

His family had moved to this seaside town twelve years ago when it had still just been a village. Now, Francisco felt that developers were slowly encroaching on the town's limits. Francisco thought the developers were monsters, greedily devouring the wide stretches of unsoiled beaches and empty grassy meadows. The thing that seemed so wrong to him was that they were only going to fill these beautiful, clean spaces with malls, grocery stores, gas stations, and fancy hotels. Why such destruction and not even to give people homes? He knew that because he'd been listening furtively at his door as his parents and grandmother had talked late into the night. He should've been sleeping, but he had to know, had to listen to the plans, the reasons, to try to make some sense of this senseless farewell.

"I want to get out before the developers knock on the door," his mother had said, "and I don't want to be here when the bulldozers come into town."

There had been a note of despair in her voice, oddly mixed with a smile. She always smiled when she was worried about something. Francisco wished he could be as positive about the sale of the cottage. After a few minutes of just looking at the cottage, memorizing its smallness, its brown roof, white sides, red door, and brass knocker, he pedaled off toward the beach. He'd brought a bucket and spade with him. Digging on the beach had been a favorite pastime for all the years he'd been living at the cottage for as far back as he could remember. His grandmother told him it was childish. He didn't care. It comforted him. The sea always gave him something from its depths. It wouldn't fail him today.

An hour later he'd found a brimming bucketful of treasures, including an enormous purple-gray conch that spoke in ocean waves to him every time he held it to his ear. The conch would go with him, he'd already decided. When they . . . left . . . yes, left the cottage behind forever, the conch would be his reminder of all those joyful, sun-filled days of his childhood by the sea.

What is the topic/subject of "The Cottage"?

A. struggle between family members

B. big changes in life

C. destruction of the environment

D. man versus nature