Her – “Oh yeah.”

Thinking about light needing 100,000 years to cross the Milky Way galaxy from the project we did the night before…

Me – “It takes eight minutes for light from the sun to reach us.”

Her – “Has it been eight minutes?”

I asked some questions to figure out she meant how long we had been in the car

Me – “Oh yeah. It’s more like fifteen or twenty minutes that we’ve been driving.”

Then I sort of went off on a tangent about time…

Me – “The clock time says 7:40, but the real time is now.” And coming up with a little saying that I though she might like – “My favorite time of the day is right now… and to think that the sun is just one of 2 billion stars in our galaxy…”

Her – “Is that more than infinity?”

Me – “No infinity goes on forever.”

A pause

Her – “Do footprints go on forever?”

Me – “What do you mean?”

She giggled and went on…

Her – “You know how when you look right into the sun and then close your eyes you see a picture? I just did that, and I saw my footprints.”

Didn’t really know how to respond.

Me – “Well, in a way our footprints do last forever. Who we are and the way we live our lives is left behind and, in a way, goes on forever.”

Thinking I had said something profound for her to chew on, I settled into my chair, the conversation capped off. She quickly topped it, though, with an anti-climactic statement

Her – “Sometimes they fade, though.”

I chuckled. On we drove…