The Perfect Fit

 There’s nothing quite like when something fits perfectly in my hands. When it molds exactly to my fingers, like it was made just for me. It’s the best when it’s a random, unexpected object—like a rock you pick up on a walk, a seashell washed up on shore, or even the lid to a perfume bottle you forgot about. Or Calvin’s favorite: when a hospital band sticks to my forehead. Disclaimer: he can’t stand it. Something so simple, so small, and yet it brings me this moment of peace. It’s almost like the object knows exactly where it belongs, and for that moment, it’s right there in my hands.

It doesn’t always make sense why these things feel so good. It’s not about their value or their purpose. It’s just that little click that happens when my fingers curl around them, when the weight feels perfect, balanced—just enough to notice, but not too heavy. I hold it, and there’s this sense of calm that washes over me. Like, in a world where so much feels out of place, there are still these small moments where everything lines up, where everything fits.

And it’s not something I look for—it just happens. I’m walking along, maybe not thinking about anything, and then my hand finds something, and it just feels right. A pebble, a button, a lid, my pop it—whatever it is, it’s like a little gift from the universe, a reminder that not everything is chaotic. Sometimes, things fit.

It makes me pause for a second, too. In that brief moment, all the noise in my head fades away. There’s no worry, no stress, just me and that object in my hand, and somehow, it’s enough. It’s like a puzzle piece falling into place—quiet, but so satisfying. For that moment, the world feels a little smaller, a little more manageable, all because of this one, perfect fit.

I’m certain this is an autism sensory thing. You probably don’t experience the pure contentment that comes when something fits perfectly in your hands. But for me, it’s like finding a lucky penny, winning a few bucks on a lottery ticket, or that moment when you crawl into bed and finally let the weight of the day slip away. It’s brief, but in those few moments of holding that object, I feel completely satisfied.