Center of the universe

As I write this, I think about writing a whole series of center of the universe stories.  We could all write this series.  

My love tells me about a professor who uses a balloon to describe how all the stars are moving away from each other at the same rate.  He puts dots on the deflated balloon and then blows it up... sure enough... all the dots move away from each other, at the same rate.  I love illustrations that can be used for a wide variety of things.  We are each one of those dots, and everyone is moving away from each of us at the same rate.  We are each the center, The Dot.  The more inflated the Universe, the more others move away from us... and, of course, we move away from others.  Hmmm.

We are each the center

Of our very own universe.

How could it be otherwise?

Of course

Not me.

The man in the parking lot

Doesn*t see us at all.

He is not looking.

We do not run him over.

In the grocery store we see him

With his cart,

One bunch of bananas

Headed for the checkout line.

We walk behind him.

He is very slow.

He stares at a paper in his hand,

Wads it up and throws it

Into the display next to him.

We chuckle.

A close friend loses her cell phone

Three days in a row.

She tells me she has prayed.

She tells me it is clear the Universe

Does not want her to have a cell phone.

So what will you do?

I ask.

She says she will buy a cheaper

Cell phone.

We are each

The center.

But not me.

Even as I laugh

Vague recognition sparkles

The edges.

But I am not the center.

Certainly

Not me.