by Lori Negridge Allen
If heaven’s a place, it’s Las Vegas, where all we’ve lost in credit and cash is of zero significance. If heaven’s a tree, it’s ginkgo biloba, a three thousand year-old living fossil whose strength defied Hiroshima. If heaven’s a pie, it’s lemon meringue, so sweet our tongues might ache if not for that note of tang. If heaven’s a song, it’s Happy Birthday sung off key, on key, in every key, by former enemies. If heaven’s a vehicle, it’s a tandem bicycle built not for two but for two times infinity, with angel cards in the spokes. If heaven’s a playing card, it’s the two of diamonds, always reminding us that for a full deck, nothing is useless. If heaven’s a book, it’s the Bible’s Psalms, crossing out verses of desires and curses, highlighting thanks and praise. If heaven’s a month, it’s October, when the growing season’s almost over everywhere but here.
Lori Negridge Allen recently moved from a house overlooking a stream flowing into a small lake to a condo overlooking a river flowing into a sound. Most days find her walking the beach, wondering at tides.