The Magic Stone

The Magic Stone

He has lost it. Of all the places to loose his magic stone it has to be on a beach smothered in seashells. I remember when his mother gave it to him. She found it on this same beach last year. She placed it in his hands and told him to hold on to it because the stone was magic and it will always make him think of her. The kid was three years old at the time, but he believed his mother, and he never went a single day without holding the stone. Now he is four years old without his precious magic stone, and without his mother.

Here I am, this young boy’s father, franticly searching for a small, pale, blue stone in the ocean. While I am searching, I pray the stone is actually magic so it will maybe shine a light to show me its location. I take a quick glance towards the beach at my son. I notice the sun reflecting off his sandy blond hair, and for a moment, I can picture his beautiful mother sitting next to him, hugging him and promising to make everything better. She’s not there. She will never be there again. I wish I did not have to do this. I can’t be looking for a magic stone. We are supposed to be healing and starting over in this new town. How can my boy start over if he is attached to a stone he believes is magic? If it was magic she wouldn’t have died.

I notice the anxiety and sorrow on my son’s young face and I feel a pang of guilt surpass me. He just lost the most important person in his life. He doesn’t understand why she is gone, but he knows she is not coming back. Now, his most prized possession is missing, the only object linking him to his mother. Here I am bad tempered because I have to look for it. What kind of father am I? It is time to get down to business. Maybe if I search real hard, I can locate the stone before sunset.

“Son, where exactly were you standing when you lost it? Do you remember?” I call out to my boy.

“I don’t remember.” He cries out to me.

“Of course he doesn’t remember, he’s four.” I quietly speak to myself.

I take a dive back under the water and start feeling around on the soggy sand with my fingers. I pick up seashell after seashell, none of them being the magic stone. It could be anywhere. What am I going to tell him if I can’t find it? I’m sorry son, It’s gone just like your mother. I can’t do that to him. The stone is valuable to him. All I have to give him right now is finding it. I am his father. I should be able to give him anything he needs, especially since he just lost everything. If I have to turn the ocean upside down, I will find my son's magic stone.

His mother would know exactly where to look. She was good with those kinds of things. She just knew them. One time I looked thirty minutes for his tennis shoes, and could not find them anywhere. She just walked straight to the couch and lifted up the couch pillows and there they were. When It came to this little boy she knew everything. Now she’s gone. We were a great team. I ache for her. I don’t know how I am going to raise him by myself, much less find a needle in a haystack. I can picture her now in her black bathing suit, with her long curly blond hair wavering over her shoulders, wading into the water and retrieving the stone as if it were never lost. A smug smile strikes my face as I pick up some more seashells and sort through them. This is hopeless.

I pause to take another glance at my son. He is more peaceful now, as if he is in some form of concentration. His eyes are closed and he is sitting Indian style in the sand. Maybe he is trying to remember where he dropped it. All of a sudden he looks up at me with his great big blue eyes, like his mother’s and he asks me a stunning question.

“Do you think Mommy has it Daddy?”

Chills crawl up and down my spine as I stare at him in bewilderment. I am at a loss for words. What do I say to Him? Do I lie to him and tell him his Mommy has it. Well I have to say something.

“Maybe.” I dryly reply.

I wonder if I should call off the search now. Maybe if he thinks she has it he will believe it is safe.

“Stop looking Daddy, Mommy has it.” His young voice was filled with enthusiasm.

I look at his innocent face and my heart melts.

“Are you sure son, how do you know Mommy has it?” I ask him.

“Because you said she is not coming back and she needs the magic stone to close her eyes and think about me. It’s ok Daddy she can have it. I don’t want Mommy to forget me.” My son’s face lit up, and he smiled at me.

A tear slides down my cheek, I am overwhelmed.

“Don’t cry Daddy. The stone is magic, Mommy can see you too.”

He then walks over to where I am standing in the water, and places his small fragile hand in mine. Instantly I am overcome with pride and delight for my loving son. I am grateful for the magic stone, and I am pleased it is lost. My search is over. I pick up my son and embrace him.

“Lets go home, son.”

As I carry him, he whispers over my shoulder towards the ocean,

“Don’t lose it Mommy.”