Companionship

Our family just spent a few days at Destin Beach for Easter break. My son and his friend entertained themselves for about an hour by digging a huge hole in the sand. Then, my seven-year-old nephew, Cooper, continued digging the same hole wider and deeper for hours more with some help. He had two plastic shovels so another boy came along to help. The boys were the same size and played together well on the beach—digging and throwing sand. At one point, Cooper showed the boy how to he could jump across the hole. He gestured to the boy to stand nearby and hold a shovel horizontally while he made a running start to traverse the gap. Then, Cooper held the shovel while the boy jumped across. I don’t know what holding the shovel had to do with the jump, but it was part of standing by. Each time, Cooper got a running start farther back to cross the hole and the boy copied him. My nephew was the leader and the other boy easily followed. The amazing thing is my nephew is deaf, but the other boy understood him. He never yelled at him or questioned why he didn't talk. I think that companionship needs no language. Sometimes, just being together in silence is all that we need.