When I Cross Over Into Whatever [500]

by Deneen Ansley

16 January 2009

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Flash Writing

Inspired by what if...?

When I cross over into whatever-comes-next and I am presented with the question: “What is your heaven?” - because isn’t that how it is going to work? Aren’t we all afforded that most perfect moment in our being, when we KNOW?

THIS! This moment here! I am freezing it in time, preparing to set myself adrift in the vastness with this warm bubble of love that is, in this mortal existence, threatening to take out my rib-cage and suffocate me.

Two beautiful girls, wrapped into my arms, their skin oh-so soft, their faces angelic as my fingers stroke their cheekbones in the pale light of the moon-filled night.

My fingers encounter silken hairs, the darker blonde, straighter ones of the eldest like the physical manifestation of the beams of the night-moon, bouncing through the window. The curls of the younger one encase my fingers as if playing some ethereal game of let’s-wrap-around-each-other.

I sigh, snuggling down into the soft, billows of the comfy king-sized bed, and breathe in the heady sweet scent of innocence. The arm of the older one reacts to my movement, and in her sleep, she grimaces, wrapping her arm more tightly about me - as if *I* am the one keeping *her* grounded! As if she is afraid that I might disappear.

And why? Why ever would I? Where better in this world – or the next?

I watch the offset rhythm of the breathing of two flawless chests, realizing that my own, unconscious physical response is to try and match it. Their breathing is naturally lighter and faster than my own, being untainted by my cares in this world. My slight hyperventilation only lends to that feeling of dizzy elation in this moment.

Looking down at their perfectly formed mouths, I see an echo, a mirror of their mother’s, and I glance over at my sleeping daughter, adult legs wound amongst the crisp sheets, remembering when her face matched the smaller ones of the grandchildren, now encircled and sleeping in my arms.

The picture fills me with pride. I am the one who has made us. I am the one privileged with the gift of being allowed to bring comfort this night. Basking in the glow of the presence of these precious contented beings, I have sang us all to sleep, the babes having begun in the big bed with overtired crankiness from a day filled with the exuberance of fun and living.

I think: “These are a product of my existence. Proof that I have been in this world.” Had I not given physical birth to them, it would be the same. We impact one another and our spirits change with every interaction. It is the stuff of love, simply for being.

With all of God’s children, it is this way. With my soul adrift in the vastness with this warm bubble of love that is threatening to take out my rib-cage and suffocate me.

This is the moment.

This is mine.

This is heaven.




TitleDate Posted
The Question12 December 2008

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