Makeup

Fast forward a year and a half. On a July day, Timothy and I were in his car alone hours away from home, and touched on all varieties of subjects, including Calvinism (I learned TULIP that day) and how much he wanted to smack me for my relativism. Not that I was one of those types of relativists; as I would put it, things are absolutely true relative to the subject. Still, the mere idea that one could live without the ultimate appeal to authority was deeply unsettling to my Christian friend. Having crossed to the other side of the fence, I see his worries and his rationale. Yet I maintain a sort of disdain for those who believe in God, and cannot imagine not believing in him. I for one am proud of being bilingual. Arriving at the parking lot near Lake Erie (I think; it could have been another Great Lake), we were greeted by his eventual wife Alysse, Louise’s friend who took to calling out my full name in the hallways at Laurier. I loved her dearly, then and now, in the same direction and magnitude I loved my sister, estranged from me by the fractures of childhood and the wedge of politics. In a true repeat of old patterns I would go on to have bitter arguments with Timothy’s girlfriend, but on that day she was all smiles under her large hat and led us to where she had set up lawn chairs under shade.