-If I could just find the staircase to Heaven, I’d dash right up and when I’d reach the top, I’d collapse onto frothy clouds, panting from exertion. There’d be a tinkling chime, and I’ll look up from my heaving chest and there, towering above me, would be a massive copper doorway. Not the greenish hue of an old penny, but the brilliant shade of the sun at 7:00 PM.

I’ll knock on those gates, and they’ll smoothly creak open- and the first thing that’ll hit me is Light. A light so blinding, like that first moment in the morning when your eyes are flooded with sunshine- multiplied by the number of breaths you take in a day.

Then suddenly! Sound! Not the ringing voices of angels I’d expected, or a booming old God with a beard. No, a baby’s squeal, a mother’s hum, a father’s grunt. The laughter of High School hallways and backyards and lakes, the off-key singing of Grandpas. And underneath this, a soft muffle, a sniffle, a weep. Somebody sighing, some crying, a questioning youth “whying”. And the deafening trickle of tears against cheeks.
Finally I would Smell. Cinnamon and baby powder and freshly shampooed hair, and cumin, extra-virgin olive oil, and strawberry yogurt. Somehow, it worked.

I’ll flounce through the clouds until I reach my destination. There is God and I prepare my question, clear my throat, ahem. I waited so long for this moment and now it’s here- words shuffling on my tongue- a deck of cards I’ve wanted to draw forever. Here is the question I prepare to ask: “How could you keep all the good for yourself God, and leave us with bad?”

But my lips wont obey, my teeth are on strike, the question that's been on Replay all my life is suddenly frozen- a broken track. And suddenly- oh!- what a fool I am!

So I race back down the stairs, and when I reached my place, I spread out my arms for the tears and squeals and strawberry yogurt.--