"Do you believe in God?"
The three of us sit, somewhat disheveled, around a small circle table in the middle of the store, our fluorescent oasis from the rainy darkness outside. Mist has formed dewy droplets in our hair from dashing across the road, and a monotonous buzz from the lighting fills the otherwise sleepy space. The passing glow of headlights from the intersection outside the window and an occasional noise from the back room is all that exists to suggest we're not completely alone. Rain dribbles down the glass with gentle spatterings, and we eat our ice cream slowly. The sprinkles on mine are large and pastel, and taste like childhood and nostalgia.
"Of course" and "I guess so" sound back at the same time. There is a pause for ice cream before we continue, a contemplation and savoring of both flavors and ideas.
As for me, I guess I used to, I have a vivid memory of coming home from Sunday School when I was very young, after a lesson on how God is always watching you, and will always be there. I made a pile of pillows in the middle of the floor and buried myself under them all until I was sure I'd disappeared from reality entirely. I remember giggling from my hiding place, knowing that even if nobody else in the whole world knew where I was, God was watching, God was there. I'm not sure when I stopped thinking that.
I'm not sure if that makes me an Atheist. No, I do believe I'm a Christian, though I'm not quite sure of anything, really. I sit in silence, and take another spoonful of ice cream. This time, it tastes like childhood nostalgia and sadness.
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