Heaven, S. G. Ricketts [shoe dog free ebook TXT] 📗

It is beautiful here. Mom and Dad are driving in front of us, their RV taking up the majority of our lane. It’s a work of art, and I know one just the same is behind our truck. My husband’s thumb smooths the soft fabric of the steering wheel as he drives. The last golden rays of late summer light up my husband’s face. Just slightly, he’s smiling. I don’t think he even realizes it.

Beauty stretches before us, all different kinds of beauty. A perfect world, the cedar trees covering rolling hills like chubby Christmas trees. Mesquite joins them, yellow-green and dark green. It never ceases to amaze me that perfection can come in so many different environments. Before, my mother used to think this land was ugly, scrubby and dry. As I watch the trees fly past, I let my hand dance in the wind out the window. Apparently, she was wrong. The smell of cedar still fills my nose, and the hill country still remains. The lakes are full, though, which was rare Before.

As my hand dips up and down, I think back to Before, seeing those same trees dressed up in silver tinsel and red ornaments along a littered high way. Seeing it now, a part of me misses it, that human camaraderie of secret things. A part of me doesn’t. At all. How can I? Deer graze openly, and a blue jay flies alongside our truck for a moment. It’s all so perfect. The sky is wide open, the only clouds far up in the atmosphere, wisps turning colors as the sky begins to fade. My heart feels fit to burst. We will be there soon, and I cannot wait.

It is nighttime when we arrive. The men set to leveling the trailers, good humored talk back and forth. There are already four trailers in our little circle. I hand the husband another block. It slides under easily. I smile, remembering summer upon summer of cursing and kicking as they attempted to balance the trailers. First too high, then too low, then too crooked, then a rock in the way. Now, it’s done in less than 10 minutes. We women have already set out a light dinner, and the boys, my sweet boys, have a fire going. Crickets sing around us, and the sky is a blanket of stars. More than I ever saw Before. Before, they were pinpricks of beauty. Tonight, all the heavens seem splayed out above us. Perhaps, because they are.

The boys and their wives come over. They were still young Before, so there are no grandchildren with them. Grandma and Granddad, too, and the husband’s Nana and Papaw. The rest of the family is busy with other things elsewhere. My sister is in the city, mesmerized by the new healthcare. Before we left, she told me that she could study it for a thousand years and still find something new. I believe her. The husband’s sister has taken her family to one of the many freshwater seas across the country, content now with the crystal clear waters. No more pollution, invasive species, or trash. Just beautiful, pristine water. Her family loves it…

We sit down around the fire, unconsciously keeping the light ordinance. Really, with the stars and the moon out, we don’t need any of the solar lights. The food simmers over the coals and we share stories. Stories of Before, stories of Forever. It is so perfect, this night. I look around the faces, still in awe of it all. Mom and Dad are young again. Dad’s theory was right. 33 really is the perfect age. And, best of all, there is love in their eyes again. The pain and bitterness and conflict is gone. Instead, there is just love, and friendship, and compassion. Grandma and Granddad, too, are young. It’s so strange to see faces I recognize but have never seen. The husband’s Nana laughs, and I see him smile. Before, he had lost her so early. Now, I get to meet her. Her deafness is gone, her sickness healed. It is amazing.

As Mom begins to hand out our food, warning us of its heat, I set mine down and lean back. Forever is nothing like I thought it would be. We all had had a different idea of what it might be like, but it definitely hadn’t been this. Roads still exist, and so did cities. There is still the sun and the moon, the world as we knew it. And yet… Everything is different. It is perfect. There is no pain, no suffering, no sickness. Everyone gets along, and all of the greatest things about humanity remain, while all of the disgusting and flawed are gone. All of our best ideas have flowed together, and we continue to imagine and create and wonder. He has created a new world, just like he said, but left all of the wonderful things He’d made. My hand caresses the husband’s, and I look across to my sons. Forever. I have Forever with them, with all of them. We have an entire world to discover, seas to explore, canyons to climb and foods to try. And I have it all to experience with them. Because of Him.

In this moment, I am overwhelmed. I open my foil and stare down at my food, hardly able to put my thoughts into words. Instead, as I stare at it, I let my mind go. Thankfulness, gratitude, love, joy: it all flows out. How can I not feel these things? How can I not rejoice? I have eternity with these people I love so dearly, because He loves us.

Are there times of sorrow? Perhaps… Though sorrow is not so broken an emotion as I used to think. Even He feels sorrow. After all, not everyone is here. Forever hasn’t removed my memory of Before, and I am not oblivious to the missing faces. Other camping trips hover like ghosts behind this one, even as I relax in the conversation. My husband’s best friend, my cousins and aunts, my older son’s mother-in-law: none of them had believed “such fairy-tale nonsense.” And they are gone. When He rescued us, Before, He promised us that they wouldn’t suffer. They would cease to be, just like they believed. Still, my heart aches.

There is so much here! The scents of the flowers, flowers that never stopped blooming, the fruit, the air: everything is exactly as it was always supposed to be! I wish they were here. My heart, looking around at it all, never once has the “this isn’t right” feeling anymore that plagued me Before. People don’t die. Family doesn’t abandon anyone. No one fights or hurts or is cruel. It is right, and they will never see it.

I can feel Him next to me, His strange, calming warmth. “Do not be troubled, Child. Some days, you will remember them, and that is a form of Forever. I wanted them here, too, but I will not force anyone to love me.” I sigh and lean over. My husband glances my way, the ghost of a smile under his beard. He sees Him, too, and squeezes my hand. “Remember them, and know that I grieve for them, too.” A log cracks and I jump. He is gone, though not. He is always here, but my focus has shifted. I smile. He is right, as He always is. Forever would be better with them here, but they won’t know what they are missing. And when you have Forever, you can’t always grieve.

The wind plays with my hair, carrying the sounds of the night. Everyone finishes up their meals, and we all retreat to our trailers. My father has insisted on chili pepper lights along his awning, just like Before. My mother just shakes her head and smiles. Again, I revel in the lack of sharp words, the ease of their movements. We wave good-night and close the door.

The husband pulls me close, his kiss settling on my forehead. “Let’s go to bed,” he whispers. I look up. Eyes the color of the Caribbean watch me. Even here, in Forever, He has kept those few marriage secrets in tact. So, as night steals over the camp, we go to bed. In the morning, we will see another perfect sunrise, one unique and never to be seen again, regardless of how many mornings we see. And we will see a lot. A thousand, a million, an uncountable number. My hands run down his sides and I smile against his collarbone. Forever. We have Forever. I couldn’t be happier.

Publication Date: 10-19-2014

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