A Conversation With God (Original Story)

I looked around me. I was sitting on a bench at Sacajawea Park. It was a beautiful day out. The sky was so clear I could see the gradient of light blue fading to dark blue where the earth's atmosphere fades into space. A group of kids ran by, squealing with laughter. My eyes followed them and I was a bit startled to realize there was someone sitting next to me on the bench. He looked to be in his early thirties, wearing a worn blue baseball cap, a plain white t shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shorts. He wore a knowing smile that reminded me a bit of my father when I was a child.
"Sorry, I didn't see you there young fella." I said to him. I had taken to calling everyone "young fella" back when I turned 60 and officially became a senior citizen. I got more of a kick out of it than anyone I ever said it to.
"Young fella?" He said back with a soft laugh, "I think it's safe to say I have more than a few years on you." I sat puzzled for a second, thinking I had heard him wrong, but then I noticed my hand. The skin looked young and supple. The hair on my arms was dark and my arms were more muscled than I was used to seeing. I sat gaping at my body.
"Allow me to explain, I'm God." I was hesitant to take what he said at face value. My mind needed time to process everything that was going on.
"That's a typical reaction" he continued, "It's a lot to fathom, but ask yourself, 'why am I in my 20 year old body with my 81 years of memories, at a park in the town I grew up in, even though I live over 500 miles away from there and I have no recollection of how I got here.'" I was stunned. It was as if he was in my mind deeper than I was. Like he had plucked all these thoughts that my mind was trying to disentangle out and set them out for me.
"Because this is a dream." I managed to squeak out, only half believing myself.
"Actually, you're kind of right. This is a lot like a dream, but directed by me instead of the static of your mind."
"H-How?" I asked him, not intently staring at him.
"Magic!" He said as he wiggled his fingers at me in a jazzy manner. We both chuckled, but when my stare persisted he continued.
"I could explain it to you, but even with a PhD in Neuropsychology, a lot of it would go over your head. Besides, we don't have forever to sit and talk."
Suddenly I was filling up with all the questions I should have been asking since he introduced himself, "What am I doing here? How long do we have?" I said hurriedly.
"You're dying... natural causes." he said softly. The look on his face conveyed more empathy than anyone I had met before. "I find that people do better if I don't tell them how long we have. Inevitably, they end up counting down the time in the back of their mind."
"So... what happens... after. When I'm dead? Where do I go?" I nervously asked. He was quiet for a while before he spoke.
"Nothing." I felt a cold shock go through my body. "I'm not the kind of god that the religious followers make me out to be. Creating life was somewhat of an accident on my part, and unfortunately, I can't bestow immortality upon any one. When you die, that's it. It goes back to being like before you were born." We sat in silence for a few seconds. Me, trying to fathom the gravity of everything he was telling me, and him, trying to comfort me through fatherly looks. Finally, he broke the silence.
"I understand this isn't what you hoped for. Especially after meeting me, you probably got the impression there was an afterlife."
"I understand." I cut him off a bit, but not because I was angry. "It makes sense. The afterlife was a notion created by humans. You never led us on in that regard. It's funny now that I think about it. If there was an afterlife, it would be Earth. We would simply be immortal beings from birth."
"Yes. Perhaps one day I can make that so, but up until now, simply creating life was pushing the limits of my abilities. I'm not a god, not truly. It's only in comparison to humans that I seem godlike. Without that, I am simply an entity."
I nodded at him. It was all I could do. I was still full of questions, but they felt so futile. It was an uncomfortable dichotomy. I was filled with questions that I craved to know, but now the answers all felt so worthless. What good would they do me? I smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and said "I appreciate it, young fella."
I briskly jogged my way over to the playground. I grabbed onto the monkey bars and did a few pullups with such ease I was afraid I might launch myself into the sky. It felt so good to be so mobile again, the dull ache in my right knee gone as if it had never existed. I brought my feet up to hang on the bars and let myself hang upside down. I looked back toward the bench. I saw him smiling as he ran over to join me on the monkey bars.