Jané's diary

How strange, that conversation at Costco. Who says it so straight-out like that? There is no God. I never saw that coming. They usually say how true or nod their heads or at least say hmm. But to just come back with No, there is no God, God doesn't exist. And to say it so matter of factly, without heat, reasonably.
    And so, am I wrong, and God didn't plan things? How do I think I know that? Or how did I think I knew it? And did I believe it anyway, really? I wanted to believe, maybe. But why? Anyway, if God planned for younger people to take care of their parents when they get old, then why are fewer and fewer doing it?
    And can I say for sure that God has ever answered even a single one of my prayers?

I wish I could remember that man's name. He said it very clearly, but then he asked me what my name was and how was Jané spelled, and my husband's curiously pronounced last name. I should have asked him again after the restroom.
    But isn't the fact that he was still there when I came back, eating his yogurt, somehow a sign that maybe God does exist, after all? But why would God send someone with the message that he doesn't exist?
    Maybe I'll see him at Costco another time. I have so many questions.