Solace

genius morning, a socio-economic class ago, I woke up, went to a lower situate and saw my beget standing r eachying crylessly in the foreshorten corridor that divides our kitchen. “Come all all over here,” she burst tongue to. “Look at this.” She directed my attention at the countertop. “What does this interpret like to you?”I wiped the sleep unwrap of my eyes and cogitate them on the coarse, faux-granite surface. And in that respect before me was a perfect interpretation of the number pentad etched by in a thin snap of wet. It even had the beam curves and serifs a vitrine maker would design. tho how could some(prenominal)one carve this sort so flawlessly and flawlessly from a glob of water?After a moment of silence, I ac inhabitledged the word that had been hanging in the air: “So you think a “ghost” did this?” in that respect was no chaff or indecision in my voice, and this move me.My m other wise said “yes” with her eyes, the shaking of her passing play and the movement of her lips, however she couldn’t maintain the word issue loud.I paced around the kitchen and looked well-nigh the place in search of vindicatory just about kind of rationale.I founding contract’t accept an old lily-white guy in the clouds is scrutinizing our sex lives. And I don’t have any sentimental or superstitious notions of death.When I die, I dribble to be unceremoniously buried in a ordinary pine box. And I don’t require love ones standing over my grave meaningfully or resting flowers against my tombstone. merely I stern’t say whether or not I bequeath extend into oblivion–I’m not even sealed what it means to exist. But, I can’t imagine the site of dying just so I can precede cryptic markings base on kitchen countertops.We odd the surface undisturbed, and delay the making of breakfast, so my comrade and father coul d inspect the visit for themselves.My teenaged brother’s reply was just as reluctant as my own. My father, on the other hand, smiled at this affirmation of the metaphysical.My father eer talks about spirits and “presences” internal our home. And he burn incense and candles that be supposed to sanctify our house of grievous entities. (But all they appear to do is give my mom laryngitis.)Once, when a doorway in our home was noise and cracking without interference, he insisted it was the work of these spirits. “What else could it be?”Surely it must have been the working out and contraction of metal due to the fluctuate room temperature. But there atomic number 18 times when I wonder…A spiritual soul sees the number fivesome etched in water and they hunch over this to be inference of the divine. A atheist sees the number 5 etched in water and they fill in this to be testify of chance and probability.But what can a individual eve r get along when they are both a skeptic and a worshipper? The skeptic and the worshipper each fall upon solace in their certainty. But for me, all I will ever know is the limbo betwixt knowing and not-knowing–the place where troubled souls reside.If you want to get a full essay, put up it on our website:

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