Grandpa's Land

My husband's family gathers twice a year in the middle of the woods at a place our boys commonly call "Grandpa's Land." As both of our father's passed away before we had children, they have never known their grandfathers...but they love going to "Grandpa's Land." It is a place where the label "Aspie" just doesn't matter. They can be themselves. They can be alone or with a group or go on a walk or whatever.....without judgement and without stress. We just returned from our Summer Trip to "Grandpa's Land" and I thought I would share some of the magic of this place with you.

As our car turns from the state highway onto the road that leads into the lush shaded forest, our Aspie sons and their "traditions" take over. It is a time when I find myself smiling at their simplicity.....a time when their repetition of actions brings stability rather than frustration...innocence rather than animosity. The windows are rolled down, we all take a deep breath of the freshest air to meet our lungs in a long time and the CD player begins to play the John Denver song "Take Me Home, Country Roads." We all sing the changed words in the refrain that my husband began to sing when he was younger than our sons are now. "Take me home, country roads, to the place, I'm supposed to be at..."  and we laugh....we ALL laugh...even our two Aspie sons....REAL AND HONEST LAUGHS!
We continue down the road looking for our well known landmarks. First, the big turn that seems to drop us into a world of long ago, then the cemetery where my husband's father, uncles and grandparents are buried. The outdoor chapel with its open sides and wooden pews....a sign of the faith that belonged to the settlers of this land so long ago...a testament to their desire to glorify God. The glade where the Forestry Service keeps the underbrush down so that all that is seen are the ancient trunks, knoby fingers of the Earth reaching up to the heavens.
What everyone is waiting for is the "Red Post," the emblem of where the National Forest ends and "Grandpa's Land" begins. The first one to see the post gets the honor of singing, "We're on Grandpa's Land....We're on Grandpa's Land."
The road gets even more narrow and the tall pines join with the trees of Dogwood, Oak, Sweet Gum.... Our boys begin to jockey to see who will sit on my husband's lap and drive first....even though they know that will not happen until after we have visited the Farm House. We round the final bend before we meet the wooden bridge over the creek where we always play "Pooh Sticks" and my husband starts to tell the boys, once again, about the Doodledums, the amusing little creatures that live in the meadow and dance at night by the light of the full moon. And then we are there....surrounded on all sides by the tall green pines of a National Forest, where two one-lane clay roads meet. We turn to the west and set off down the lane that will bring us to the Farm House. The transformation is complete. It takes the entire process to strip ourselves of the outside world, but once there, the world is much greener, much more simple... relaxed...... peaceful....... Our boys smile....our boys breathe.....
The thought came to me this weekend that our boys are spirits of the past with the mental capability of embracing the future. Maybe they will be the ones to unite all that is good about the past and the future...maybe Aspie kids are more able to recognize that which is good...who knows. I focused on the type of men their grandfathers and great-grandfathers, their uncles, their ancestors had been. They thought for themselves and of the good of others....they had an immense capacity to go beyond themselves....to fix....to survive....to invent. Maybe, had my Aspie sons been born to that time, they would not be seen as different.....rather, they would have been seen as.......leaders.....with the strength of those tall pines.......rooted to the earth with the depth of an oak.....and creating a world that reflects the beauty of a Dogwood. The Dogwood that stand for the blood that was shed for us all......and recognized by the eyes of two Asperger boys who see that on which the rest of the world turns its back.