KATHERINE GRAINGER
|
HIKING WITH WILLIE AND GRACE
COVID-19 was everywhere. Civil unrest was on TV; the upcoming election was contentious. For the past six months, my son had been under incredible strain because I am constantly exposed to COVID at my job. Then, just when our vacation started, our water main broke. Despite his autism, Willie was trying to cope, but this was too much. He had to get his mind off the strife around us. Denny Creek Trail seemed a perfect hike. We began with our usual squabble over water. Willie wanted six bottles in each backpack. I wanted two. He rolled his eyes in frustration. “We will get dehydrated! Why don’t you get that?” I tried to reason with him. Willie was unable to negotiate. Finally, I instructed, “Put the excess water bottles in the cooler.” This would be a cranky and challenging day, but I kept our plans because I don’t want my thirty-four-year-old son to give into his fears and use autism as a crutch. I wanted to teach him to keep our commitments. As I drove, Willie’s head was bent. He huffed and puffed as he flipped through pages of CDs. He couldn’t find what he wanted. His flushed face meant he was ready to give up. “Go slower, Son. It’s in there,” I said softly. “It’s not there. I know it.” “Take your time. Look at one page at a time.” I knew the importance of keeping everything the same, including what music was played first in the car. Willie quickly found the CD. He let out a loud sigh of relief as Ricky Martin sang with the rhythm of rapid drums. Willie’s head bobbed faster than the beat. I bit my lower lip. He’s out of sync. It’s going to be a hard day. We’ll both need a bit of grace. Once parked at the trailhead, I decided to be proactive since I’m prone to asthma attacks and inhaled the medicine deep into my lungs. “Okay, I’m ready.” Willie was already walking up the steep incline. I followed. Boulders and tall trees surrounded the path. “Hey Willie,” I began. “I don’t want to talk, Mom.” He continued without glancing back. Willie usually has a lot to say, but not this morning. I didn’t respond to his rude tone. “Ok, no problem.” Although the medicine was helping, I paused to catch my breath. Not too bad for an out-of-shape sixty-one-year-old woman. “Using the inhaler
Santa Fe Literary Review
27
