My Heaven

Is there a Heaven? Does it exist? I have so often asked myself those questions over the years.

I think that an excellent place to begin would be to define the word first.

Heaven:

A place regarded in various religions as the abode of God (or the gods) and the angels, and of the good after death, often traditionally depicted as being above the sky.

The sky, especially perceived as a vault in which the sun, moon, stars, and planets are situated.

When I go out for my mid-afternoon walks, I often look upwards and marvel at the wondrously beautiful sky. Depending on the weather and time of day, it could be intense blue with wisps of snow-white clouds or grey colored muck with angry dark grey blotches of threatening storms. Stars could be floating about twinkling and shining against a crisp black curtain, or the dawn could be breaking and pastel-colored reds, yellows purples would be painted across the horizon.

Or maybe Heaven might be a long-forgotten spot on a tropical island where one watched a beautiful sunrise or set. A place where you smelled the gentle green palms and tasted the sea on your tongue. Maybe a deserted warm beach where your soul could mingle with the in and out of the waves. Or even a lingering first kiss under glinting specks of dancing jots.

And then a child might understand the word Heaven to mean something like a super-duper Banana Split boat ( personal favorite! ). One long white banana split into two halves nestled to the sides of an oblong-shaped bowl, with three generous balls of delicious Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry ice cream, and three different thick sweet syrupy delight, topped with sprinkles of hazelnuts, dabs of whipped cream and the piece de resistance, a single sumptuous round glistening sweet cherry.

As well Heaven could mean discovering an old dust-covered shoebox. Long ago, forgotten in some corner of the attic. Found many many years later by a young son or daughter, revealing forgotten treasured love testaments, with faded smudges of lipstick smacks and heart-shaped doodlings, that could have belonged to dearly departed parents or grandparents written during long separations.

Or maybe Heaven might be when a big fat cat comes when things are so overpowering, or a loss becomes too much to bear when nothing else seems to matter and curls up on a lap purring softly.

Then, to a person returning home from an entire day, sunup to sundown. Plowing his fields, repairing a broken irrigation line, or feeding his hungry cattle. He might say that Heaven, to him, means coming home to his smiling partner after a long hard day and feeling her hands on his aching shoulders, rubbing away the aches and pains of the day. Gratefully accepting the reward for his toils, which comes in the form of a soap scented kiss and a gentle wink of her lovely eyes.

To me, Heaven means waking up in the morning and brewing myself a cup of fresh ground coffee. Sitting on my worn old couch and petting my fat furry friend. And asking myself the question; How can I help myself and others?

The answer, do it.