Comrade Barf

“What faith were you brought up in?”
“None. I’m atheist.”
She looks at me like I am a dog with only three legs.
“I feel so soooorry for you,” she says.
I shrug. “I’m okay with it,” I reply.
What follows is an hour long conversation where she, an elderly Mormon
raised back east, tries to find common ground with me, a young atheist
raised in the southwest.
We are both human. That is the extent of our common ground.
She tries desperately to convince me that Jesus had portended the
arrival of more prophets. I gently remind her that I don’t believe in
Jesus. She talks about the miracles God has worked in her life. I nod
and commend her for her strength and faith in such dire times. Back
and forth we go until she reaches her hand out and says, “take my
hand.” I do. She looks into my eyes and says, “everything happens for
a reason. You are meeting me today for a reason. Promise me. Promise
me you will go home and pray. A man never stands so tall as when he is
on bended knee.” She says it with such resoluteness, such strength in
her eyes, knowing that she has spread a little of the magic she holds
so dearly to her heart.
I look back into her eyes and say: “I don’t think so.”
She let’s go, exasperated, and I thank her for coming in and step out
to see my next patient.

-Barf