Molecular Conversation

Our lives are random jumble of electrons and protons

By Marie Ronnander

Van der Waals theory states that, for only a few spontaneous moments, molecules can become charged. Within these split seconds of polarity, they’re able to pull other molecules into their field. They’re able to interact. These reactions are weak and relatively pitiful next to the mighty hydrogen bond of water. Yet, they are random and constant. They hold this beautifully ephemeral phenomenon that allows for otherwise estranged molecules to encounter each other. Perhaps even to make something greater.

While humans do not have mythical clouds of electrons dragging us every which way, we are constantly cast into the throes of random chance. For brief moments each day, our lives wrap around that of a stranger’s with all the potential of a lasting interaction. There’s the curly haired barista who serves you your first cafe miel, or that tall boy with shiny, round glasses who sits next to you on your first day of class. They crash into us, and we’re pulled into each other’s magnetic field with an opportunity for meaningful change.

I used to be afraid of these chance encounters with strangers. Social anxiety carved herself keenly into my backbone from a very young age. I burned with fear that each word out of my mouth was the proverbial nail in my social coffin. As a result, I quietly ebbed around the corners of my parent’s interactions. Adults seemed to have this ease about them, which, though I didn’t understand at the time, was simply something that came with age. Listening to their mellow voices and gentle laughter lightened the tension behind my lungs; someday talking to strangers wouldn’t feel like swallowing fire.

For instance, when I was eleven years old, I started working on a strawberry farm run by an older couple. Kathy and Duane followed the common prescription that opposites attract. She was the friendly buzz of bees: sweet as honey, bright as the sun. He was the silence before dawn: soft as cotton, constant as time.

I think, here, it’s important to note that once two molecules collide, their gravitational force doubles. There are molecules on this planet who have a connection so strong that they can dent time and space. Kathy and Duane pulled each other in with a force that shook the dew drops off the strawberry plants around them. Visitors couldn’t help but fall into orbit with Kathy’s dramatic stories or Duane’s subtle jokes. Even within my introversion I could feel myself wanting to nestle into their conversations.

Their energy glittered around me. I smiled like the sun when customers wandered my way, and I chuckled at the (warranted) complaints about the weather. I learned that conversations weren’t tests of integrity and wit, but small moments where I can be a part of a world other than my own. They were reprieve from the endless chatter in my skull. They allow the person I’m talking to becomes more important than my own string of thoughts.

Not every interaction needs to make an earth-shattering impression for me to enjoy the experience –molecules don’t stick together indefinitely. But some half-lives are longer than others. That barista with the curly hair knows my coffee order as soon as the bell dings and I step through the door. The tall boy with shiny glasses started asking questions for me in classes because he knew I was too nervous to speak. These two relationships are very different, yet they each hold a very important place in my heart. These people understand me deeply through the context in which our two worlds collided.

Those who met me on the farm grew to know me as the smiley blonde child of the strawberry fields. My barista knows me for my intense caffeine addiction and habitual cafe miel. And my best friend knows me by the thoughts pounding behind my eyes. These people all started as strangers to me, yet a small exchange of words, and maybe a giggle or two, catalyzed perception. We pulled each other in. They changed my life in lovely, meaningful ways.

I’m still terrified of judgment. There are many moments I would still rather sit in corners, watching the world unfurl before me, than play an active role in conversation. But if chemistry has taught me anything, it’s that we don’t have control over what, or who, is thrown in our paths. All we can do is cross our fingers, open our hearts, and react.