I write a lot about the anxiety that Charlie experiences and our attempts to understand it and help him through it. While I’ve often noted how I worry about Charlie and his future, I don’t write so much my own anxiety but I will here. Friday morning, I was on edge.

You might ask, why? Charlie was peaceful easy-feeling. In point of fact, he’d been this way for the better part of the past two weeks, and with a number of visitors (some of whom he had never met before) at the beach house. While past years have been wrent with many moments of “boy in distress,” these were few and far between these past two weeks. We’ve had the most splendid vacation, swimming in the ocean, kayaking, all 3 of us riding bikes (in the rain, with a plastic bag of sandwiches and sushi bobbing from Jim’s handlebars one evening), Jim and me watching Charlie swimming in the ocean. Charlie’s been waking early, amusing himself while Jim and I got in a few more winks, and going to bed early. It’s been absolutely splendid.

And I oh so didn’t want it to end. On Friday, while Charlie smiled to ride bikes for bagels, to swim in a strong, frothy current (Hurricane Bill approaches), and to walk to the local hot dog stand for lunch, a sad feeling hung in my stomach like a rock.

While a boy of limited words, Charlie (like his dad) is very emotionally attuned. He picked up on my unexpressed feelings, and in the hot afternoon sun things were not at all peaceful or easy, they were noisy and frantic and painful all around. Finally, the three of us were again sitting in the beach house and it was quiet.

And then, because we were still at the beach, we went down to the ocean. Waves and foam and boogie boarding soothed nerves and heads, and Jim and I coaxed, summoned, and gestured for Charlie to stay between the orange flags. The current was unusually strong and Charlie kept getting pulled northwards. He got quite vexed. Having waded into the shallows, he took my hand and we walked together into the waves. I was able to tug him a bit south so we stayed between the flags. He put his hands on my shoulders and tried to climb onto my back a few times: “Charlie, you’re too big, bigger than mom!” I said.

Charlie said “yes” to kayaking after we showered off. Jim loaded up the kayak one last time and off he and Charlie went in the bay. The wind was up and the water was very choppy; not too much paddling was needed at times. Charlie did some paddling with the left part of his oar and, with the sky going gray and dark in patches, I met them for a windy picnic dinner.

We returned the kayak on the way back. Charlie said “no” and “no” and “no” and then asked for “rice” and “no” to going to the beach house.  Jim drove back to a Chinese restaurant from which I’d gotten him numerous containers of chicken chow fun in past summers. But the sign was dark and there was a “commercial real estate available” sign on the front, and, when I peered in the door, there was a washing machine where the sushi counter had once been. Jim drove south as there’s a busy commercial district at that end of the beach. Charlie and I went in to a food court sort of place and I got him a bowl of sushi rice from a young woman who told me she was from Turkey.

He said “no” to the rice and then “yes, yes, yes” as we passed the little amusement park that we used to patronize almost every night. When he was two years old, Jim and I had to hang onto a screaming, back-arching Charlie at the top of the ferris wheel as passengers got on and off, and there were many times when Jim carried Charlie out the red gate, as our boy wailed and reached for the giant neon-lit circle. But last year Charlie said an adamant “no, all done” to any rides. Indeed, we hadn’t gotten near a single carnival this summer or the one previous to it.

Charlie was all smiles Friday night in line to ride the ferris wheel with Jim. They did the Sea Dragon afterwards and then (still smiling, though dizzier), Charlie called for the black car. He took the bowl of rice and set it on the seat beside him and, after brushing his teeth, went straight to bed, peaceful and smiling.

Basically, Charlie was so, how can I put it, perfect, saintly, on this beach house stay that I just want to make it last and last and last. I’ve been thinking, I’d better start learning a thing or two from him so I can be as peaceful easy-feeling, and the good times will keep on going.