Being in heaven is a lot like being at the top of a wooden pull out attic in the ceiling of your room. Looking down you see the room you got dressed in every day, shared your secrets during sleepovers with your best friends in, and danced around like an idiot in to loud music when everything was right in the world. All is so close yet untouchable because of the whipping blades of your ceiling fan. So you wonder back to the attic looking through years and years of boxed memories, unable to return to the life you once had.
July 13, 2011