I remember 8th grade and the girl who’s father was a preacher.
I remember her shy composure, but how she stood up for what she believed, regardless of how terrified she was.
I sat through the class where she fought a teacher on morality. How she knew that you can’t go to heaven unless you believe in Jesus.
The teacher, knowing my family background, turned to me, and asked me if I agreed with her.
Caught off guard by being called on, my answer came out in a stutter. “I c-c-can’t judge anyone else. It’s n-not up for us to decide.”
I was a Catholic. She was somewhere within the realm of Christianity.
I knew what I believed. So did she. It’s funny how everyone knows they’re right.
Nearing the end of my senior year I spoke to her again at band rehearsal.
I remembered the girl she was in eighth grade. She looked different now with her pixie cut and heavy makeup, but I still remembered exactly what she stood for.
But sitting on the band room floor before a football game, we somehow drifted back to the topic of religion.
And she told me she was agnostic. That there was no way to prove the existence of a higher power right, or prove it wrong.
Over the past few years I’d strayed from everything I ever believed too, and now I agreed with her. There wasn’t a way to prove anything.
But sitting there, I tripped over my words the same way I had four years before.
Because I realized we’ve all changed.