It was midnight. I was sitting in the backseat of my mother’s car, and we were driving on a small country road in Northern Ontario. My window was open, allowing the summer night breeze to blow through my hair as I lay my head on the side of the car. I was letting my hand out of the window as though it was a bird soaring through the air, when my mom turned around to smile at me. She stopped the car and said, “We’re going to look at the stars.”
The air was chilly, so I stepped outside with my sweater wrapped around me. Looking up, the sky took my breath away. It was a vast and wondrous expanse, dazzling with the most luminous stars I had ever seen in my life. The thin crescent moon glowed with a faint white light. I was chilled to the bone, but not by the cold air. The vastness and beauty of space had opened my eyes that night. We can’t be the only beings out there. Why would we, such small creatures, on such a tiny planet, be of so much importance? I thought silently to myself. I knew then and there that such a seemingly infinite universe could not possibly have been created by a god written in a book by humans.