Gravel

I often look at pictures and videos of my kids in the quiet of the night, after they have been defeated by sleep or when they are with their Mom.

I notice the light and the beauty and the sound of the wind. I feel a whisper of gratitude to be able to access this kind of outdoor space. Grateful that someone had the foresight to protect this place from becoming a collection of more seaside mansions.

What’s it like for this autistic child to travel along this gravel path? What’s it like for this child to walk through his life?

What is it about gravel that holds his attention almost as tightly as short video clips played on an old red smart phone?

The sound of small fragments of gray rock interacting with boots. It sounds like wading through jewelry. We lay gravel over paths to improve footing and drainage. Gravel is made from large rocks shattered into smaller rocks; sometimes by Mother Nature although I think this gravel was trucked out here and spread by men.

Depending on the type of step, the song changes. He can control it, like playing an instrument. The digging toe stub makes a different note than a sweeping kick that broadcasts a pile of it further down the path.

When you step on gravel, it gives under your foot. You press it against its mates and it moves down into the earth. It behaves differently than most surfaces that we walk across. It’s not possible to sneak up on unsuspecting prey on gravel.

I notice how settled he seems. His arms and hands are typically flapping like a panicked bird, but here they lay calmly at his sides. It must feel wonderful for him to be in bigger spaces where he doesn’t need to be gripped by the hand for fear of elopement. Like when you slip the leash off your dog and they look up at you to express thanks.

The ghost of a typical seven year old boy wiping his winter nose faucet across a jacket sleeve.

The pause. What’s he doing there? Orienting himself to the horizon? Amazed by the ocean bumping up against this familiar patch of earth? Maybe he feels lucky and safe to be shuffling through music rocks with his old man.