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When I was dirt” … is how we begin a story that was before our time. Before we were born. Once we were dust and to dust we shall return. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. A cross on our forehead on Ash Wednesday to remind us this is true.
For a long time I believe my first moment of existence is when I jump over a broom. I remember a house. I remember sunlight through a window, sunlight with dust motes sparkling in the air, and someone sweeping with a corn broom. A pile of dust on the floor, and I jump over it. Feet jumping over a dust pile; that was when the world began.
When I was dirt is when these stories begin. Before my time. Here is how I heard or didn’t hear them. Here is how I imagine the stories happened, then. When I was sparkling and twirling and somersaulting happily in the air.