"That's the town Grampy Scrip used to live in"
"Yeah, I showed you where he was buried a little bit ago."
"He's with God, in Outer Space."
"Uh, yeah, I guess so"
That's the problem with bringing up your kids in the "Shit, I Don't Know School of Theology - you never know where anyone stands these days. Used to be we all grew up with one or the other consistently absurd explanations for why we are and what we will be. I have no idea what to say - I get in enough trouble with The Mother over snacks and fucking up the kid's hair. I was playing with Estella and hiding one of her
Burger King...uh... toys. She told me that if I didn't give her back her Egg Snapper, God would surely kill me. In a dream. (Hah, I'd like to see him try - although my Uncle Jack did go that way. In his sleep, anyway). We got all sorts of grandkids but this is the only one that seems to live in some sort of weird dream time and the only one that seems to think about God. I'm gonna miss lil' Estella when she moves to California.
"We went Outer Spacing in school and we found God."
"We also saw the moon - there's poop on the moon!"
"Don't be silly. There's no poop on the moon."
But...I wonder. There were people on the moon. And where there are people poop cannot be far behind. Did we just leave a flag, some footprints and a golf ball behind? Or did someone leave a little something something to mark some territory and to show future spacefarers that, yes, WE WERE HERE?