The re-entry of a rocket from outer space back into the Earth’s atmosphere is potentially hazardous due to aerodynamic heating. And our re-entry back home from a splendid two-week beach house vacation was no less, I dare say, firey.

Charlie’s sorrow and angst on leaving the beach house have become as much a part of our vacation as packing up the car. Jim and I long ago learned to brace ourselves for the torrents of emotions flooding Charlie

1. •throughout the summer as we counted down the days to vacation
   

2. •in the days before heading to the beach
   

3. •a few days before vacation was to end as Charlie anticipated having to leave
   

4. •in the days afterwards (these days between the end of summer and the start of school always being a tricky transition to navigate).
   

It was late Thursday night that I realized I’d been steeling myself for Charlie’s expression of griefs, to the point that my own anxieties got the better of me.

I long ago wrote that Jim and Charlie and I are one symbiotic unit, a very tight team o’ three who shares coughs, colds and feelings. Who knows but if I had remained peaceful easy-feeling, Charlie wouldn’t have cried and swung out on the way to kayaking on Friday afternoon, or after a Saturday afternoon bike ride on the familiar route at home? We were almost out of practice hanging onto Charlie: This summer of Camp Charlie has been so very good.

Sunday---knowing that there’s 2-plus weeks remaining before school starts for Charlie---we focused on reviving the spirit and the Stimmung of Camp Charlie. Things got off to an uneasy start with Jim rushing to the hardware store and us driving too many miles in a fruitless search for a McDonald’s (New Jersey’s not a big state, but we usually patronize one particular McDonald’s and the Golden Arches are more discreetly designed these days.) We had to make an uncharacteristic visit to a mall to get Jim a new phone, his own not having survived one of his and Charlie’s kayaking adventures. Without meaning to, Charlie was put to the test. He had to walk from one end of the mall (packed with Sunday summer consumers; so much for the recession affecting discretionary spending) to the other and then stand around in a fluorescent-light-lit, computer and technology-filled store. No surprise when he said “I want to eat” and got in line at a neighboring Qdoba.

Jim went back to get the car so Charlie wouldn’t have to walk through the mall-maze again. Charlie stood somberly by me as the customers in front of us repeated their need for VEGETARIAN burritos a couple times over and asked for a little cheese here and a little MEDIUM salsa there. Charlie got a brownie and a small order of guacamole and out we walked.

He called for his bike helmet soon after we got home and off he and Jim went. On returning, Charlie pulled out an old stuffed black dog from a pile of boxes by the bookshelves, and then a smaller brown stuffed dog that was semi-concealed in some other boxes. (When much younger, Charlie used to think it was funny occasionally to subject “doggy Callie” to a watery dip; when he became wary of real dogs a couple of years ago, both dogs were consigned to the dusty boxes. ) He set each dog up on a chair in the kitchen, sat down on the couch, and dozed off for almost an hour.

We went grocery shopping when he woke up. Sprinkles, relish, soy ice cream: We already had all of these at home, and Charlie asked to buy none of them. He gobbled up the California rolls he’d chosen and dug into a sweet watermelon, then retrieved both dogs and added them to his pile of things on the couch. Jim mentioned another bike ride and after several “no’s” Charlie again got his helmet. Upon returning, he wanted to watch YouTube videos on my laptop. (He can type a couple of words now into the search box----when the summer started, he couldn’t type any.)

It’s going to be a bit more of an effort to keep up Camp Charlie for the next several days. Usually my parents visit to help us through these transitional weeks, but (while they are always here in spirit), health and other issues have not made this possible this year. Charlie’s sitter and new friend has gone back to college; a new friend will be starting to come over soon. I go back to work on Tuesday and start teaching every day on Wednesday; Jim starts teaching next week. Next Monday, Charlie has a dentist appointment and a neurologist appointment. And we’ll all, let’s face it, beachsick.

Charlie had his peaceful-easiness back Sunday evening, and took (among other favorite things) both the black and brown dogs to bed with him.

So comforting to him, and to me, to us.

autism Asperger’s children mother parenting beach ocean vacation