This essay was written for The Medium Writers Challenge: Space.
When I was younger, my Mama had the habit of talking to herself. It wasn’t so much questions like, “Where did I put that?” as so much full-blown conversations, complete with responses like “Um hmms” “Say what?” and “Chile.” I watched her carry these conversations while cooking, on her bed, or driving in the car. Like everyone else in the house, I wondered: Who was she talking to?
Although my siblings made fun of our Mama’s conversations with herself, they comforted me because I did the same. I’m not sure if I picked it up from her or if it was more innate. I was a spiritual child though I didn’t have the language at the time to explain that.
After moving to the country, I spent most of my time in nature listening to the birds sing, watching the clouds pass, and gazing at the night sky. When I was troubled or frustrated, I would ask the wind, the trees, or the sky a question and a voice, no louder than a thought, would answer. None of this felt demonic or supernatural, but a natural and easy sort of communication.
My high school automotive teacher told us that the universe and an atom have the same structure. That this was proof that the Christian God created us all and that God was worthy of all the praise. I never fact-checked him about the structural…
