This is my childhood home in New Albany, Indiana. In the summertime the hot sun would blaze behind the house where I would sit on concrete steps and squint into the sky. Gray paint would always flake off the steps like dried flower petals. As golden rays soaked into my bare chest I would try to understand the universe and the stars and God.
Mom’s singsong voice would briefly interrupt my deep thought as she beckoned me for dinner.
I was convinced the sky was endless. To explain I would suggest the entire universe was contained in a huge box. If this was so, something would have to lie outside this box. Perhaps a bigger box? Although mom didn’t always agree I felt my theory was sound.
The stars were small and twinkly. That’s what mom said. I loved mom.
But where did God fit into life’s puzzle?
Today I live thousands of miles away. I now have another set of gray steps in which I still sit and ponder. I still squint as I peer into the sky. But I think I have a deeper understanding of the cosmos.
At least I have never had to look for God, for she has always been there whenever I’ve opened my eyes.
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As long as I live so will the love of my adoptive parents live within me.