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Back Little Universes
Chapters (63)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Part 1
  6. Mae
  7. Hannah
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. Part 2
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. Part 3
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. Epilogue
  59. Mental Health Resources
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  62. About the Author
  63. Newsletter Sign-up

Solidity is an illusion. We know this. We know that nothing is actually solid in the way we think of it, it’s just simply the varying levels of resistance of the electrons in the atoms of objects that come into contact with one another.

Nothing is solid.

Everything changes—everything.

But …

I grip the meteorite.

River’s hands: ONLY LOVE.

Dad didn’t stop loving me. He’s dead, but he didn’t stop loving me. And Nah almost dying, hurting herself, that didn’t mean she didn’t love me—it meant she didn’t love herself. And even though people have left me, I am still surrounded by people who haven’t: Gram, Papa, Nah, Nate, Aunt Nora, Uncle Tony.

And now Ben.

I have lost so many people, but there has never been a time in my life when no one loved me. Even my birth mother might have loved me. She gave me up because she knew she couldn’t care for me. Maybe she loved me enough to let me go.

Everything changes, but love is the constant.

Love is the constant.

In this crazy experiment of life, with all its variables, all its unknowns, that is the only thing that doesn’t change.

And if love is the constant, then love is the only safe bet.

Everyone leaves; everyone dies.

But love doesn’t.

Like atoms. It changes, morphs, but it never dies.

There are some things you don’t need an equation for.

The hole in me gets wider, deeper, but it’s not a hole. It’s an air-lock, burst wide open because I don’t need to stay locked in this capsule anymore, looking through a tiny window, on the outside of the universe looking in.

I’m not empty.

I am filled with the universe. I come from that same atom the entire cosmos was born from. I’m not just filled with it, I am it. I am the universe.

I am zero gravity and stars being born and dying and black holes and quintessence—I am filled with dark matter, with an energy field that’s expanding with the universe. So if the universe is expanding, then ALL OF US ARE EXPANDING WITH IT.

We’re all part of this vast Etch-A-Sketch that is constantly reshaping itself. When we die, we get shaped into something else, we return to that creative energetic essence we came from. We’re not just this one thing—we are ALL THE THINGS. This is quintessence, the Philosopher’s Stone. This is what Dad was on the brink of. This is what he was listening for. The point of it all.