At dinner tonight, we watched the sun set over the water after exploding from behind a single cloud near the horizon.
We watched the lights come on along the quiet dock.
In a clear sky, we looked for constellations, the usual suspects but strikingly obvious. Big dipper. Orion…. A son’s sarcasm, “There are two stars in a line. They must be some god’s belt!”
While night came on, and my husband and I sipped our wine, our middle school sons debated the meaning of “infinitely small.”
Does “infinitely small” exist? Or do you eventually get to zero? Arms flailed. They argued during pasta and continued to debate over chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream.
Their third grade brother jumped in with “as the universe expands, which it is always doing, what’s small gets smaller.”
I was impressed that he had the confidence to leap into the fray.
And then he grinned, “They think close to the box. I think way outside the box.”
“Seriously?” said the oldest, “I am measurable no matter what happens to the universe.”
And then the two older boys returned to their debate, stars winking at us, lights reflected in the water, and a warm breeze barely whispering above a calm sea.
When I was in middle school, we talked about tv shows, boys, politics. I do not remember considering the universe or its infinite possibilities.