I just got back from a short beach vacation. Being at the beach with my kid takes me back to my own childhood. My son is just like me. The entire trip he was searching for shells and putting them in his fanny pack to add to his collection. I was always collecting sea shells as a kid. Sea shells, rocks, sand dollars, shark teeth, cool sticks, dead bugs, anything that was old, imperfect and strange was to be added to my collection of oddities for my own enjoyment.
I’m still doing this as an adult. On my bookshelf I keep an array of mythical items I have accumulated over the years that I refuse to part ways with. A birds nest I found in the backyard, a real goose feather, my son’s first ultrasound, a red spotted purple butterfly i found on the ground that I preserved in a mason jar, a harmonica that I discovered tucked in my jeans right in my buttcrack one morning in my 20s when I woke up on my friend’s couch after a night of drinking, a Chinese tiger fan I was gifted once by a complete stranger at a dive bar, and some colorful cute crystals I bought on Etsy.
I love to take my son to science museums. He is especially obsessed with volcanoes and rocks. He has so many questions and I wish I could answer them all but I am not a geologist, just a huge fan of our planet’s art. There is a museum we go to with an interactive kids play area where you can “dig for fossils” and “pan for gems”. He always brings a few treasures home in tiny plastic bags to add to his collection. When we get home he makes up names for each rock and gemstone and tells me what their special powers are.
Studying fossils means asking questions about the life attached to it. When was it alive? How big was it? Was it covered in hair? Did it live in the ocean? What kind of bone is this and where would it go on the body of this ancient creature? The mystery lies in the amount of time it went missing and the remains left in the sand. Often there are no definitive answers to these questions and scientists form multiple theories based on what evidence they can find. Even the most serious, factual scientists love a little bit of whimsical lore.
I am a pile of recognizable but damaged remains. I am slowly putting myself back together and trying to come up with a way to present myself. The events that occured this spring have been told to so many people who didn’t deserve to know. I foolishly trusted someone I loved with my entire life. The story has been remixed and embellished to a point where it’s now basically total fiction. I have been reduced to a fictional character to people I used to care about and who I thought cared about me.
The only facts that people truly know are what I show and tell them. Many people chose to believe lies instead because that’s what they heard first. It’s sad but not surprising. Flat earthers minds can’t be changed because that would require logic, which some people just don’t have. It must be hard to be unable to change your mind when presented with new evidence.
The facts are irrelevant to everyone but me and a handful of people I love and trust deeply. The only theory I hold on to is what my own experience was, which is now complete with firm documentation and information revealed from vindicating, eye opening conversations. All the other theories floating around can exist to waste the time and energy of people with nothing better to do than talk about someone else’s suffering.
