Magic

As soon as I picked it up and felt its weight and its smooth surface, I thought of him. It was like it had pushed a button in my palm. After 6 weeks away I hadn't thought of work at all, being busy with stuff and preoccupied with my inner life, now that I had time to do things and to think. And now, as I walked along the beach relishing the view of the shoreline curving off into the distance ahead, the feel of the warm sand on my released bare feet and the cool water caressing them gently one small wave at a time, I was deep in thought. I was thinking about how much I love the beach, and about my life; big decisions that I am facing and how I was feeling about it all, and suddenly when I bent down to pick up that perfectly striped stone about the size of a small egg, as soon as I felt it in my hand I thought of James. I wondered how he was and what he was doing. I wondered if he was okay, and if he was thinking of me. I looked at the rock in amazement, like a genie had come out of the bottle or something - how did it, how could it do that? I quickly said a little prayer for him, since I thought I must - Was this magic or something? I was very surprised that a rock could do that. I was at the beach, so very happy to be there, well in to my vacation and physically, mentally and emotionally so far away from him. I wondered - what a weird thought - if he was holding his rock and thinking of me - right then.

Six weeks ago, at the end of the school year, I had shown James my rocks. They were three smooth dark grey oval stones I had bought at a gift shop on a whim one day in March, shopping with the same friends I was now at the beach with. They were the perfect size and weight to close your hand around and feel comforted. And they were about the only thing I could afford in that shop. They each had a word carved into them - hope, peace and joy I think - and I had intended to give them to a friend who was going through a hard time, but I had second thoughts about how cliche that might be, and so they had found a place on my dresser instead. I brought them to school, showed them to James and asked him to pick one. He looked at me and then looked them all over very carefully, picking each one up and turning it in his hand. He asked me what they said, but not surprisingly for a boy of six he didn't care about the words, and he choose the biggest one. Then I picked one too, and put the extra one away.

"Do you know what this is for James?" I asked him. Of course he didn't. "This is to help us remember each other." I said. "All summer long when there is no school, when you hold your rock you can remember me. And when I hold my rock I will remember you. We will remember that we will see each other again in September when we come back to school again. You will come back, and I will be here."  He looked at me intently, eyebrows furrowed a little. I smiled at him like I was sure it would work; hoping and wishing some of my peace-of-mind might spill over onto him, into him. He was so anxious it broke my heart. Sometimes I doubted he was able to think about or even feel anything else, he was so constantly uneasy. He turned his rock over in his hand and then carefully set it beside his pencil in his desk, where he could still see it.

"I think you should put it in your back pack" I suggested "since it is very important and I know you don't want to lose it." I had visions of some other kid spying it and helping themselves to the coolest rock ever, and telling their friends they found it on the side of the road on their way to school. I think James knew what I was getting at, since he in fact had done that very thing this year more than once with other kids' unguarded treasures. He agreed and got up to go and put it in his back pack. Out in the hall by ourselves, I reminded him again of what it was for, more to the point this time since other ears were not around. If he got lonely or scared over the summer and didn't feel good about coming back to school, he could hold his rock and remember me, and Miss C. his other helper, and Mrs. S. the special ed. teacher - that we would all be here for him when he came back. I took mine out of my pocket and showed him again that I would hold my rock and remember him too. He carefully put his in the front pocket of his back pack and I wondered if it would stay there, forgotten, all summer long. And then school was out, my own vacation began, and I forgot all about it.