There’s something beautiful about Heaven; but something melancholic, too.
The colours are brighter here. That’s the first thing I notice; how rich and textured everything is, like a photograph that’s captured the perfect smooth lighting of a Tuesday afternoon in June. The grass is emerald, not green; the colours are soft, like a watercolour painting. I imagine if I ran my fingers through the purple blossoms they would feel like pussywillows, and leave a bright stain on my fingers, but I can never quite seem to reach them.
I can hear the quiet, contented laugh of a child, and I know she’s me. I remember this day, or at least echoes of many days like it; walking one step ahead of my parents, so that I feel both safe and also completely alone in my exploration of the world. I’m wearing a costume that is a part of me, beauty strapped to my back like a knight wears armour. Everything is ahead of me; I am the mutable possibility of an entire life, and every step I take both opens and closes doors. Perhaps I will live always in these imaginary games, become a sculpture or a painter or a writer. Perhaps I will wish the world was as perfect as I imagine it, and become a social worker or a politician or a scientist. When I fall and scrape my knee, will I learn to crave love, or independence? When I drop my ice cream cone on the pavement will I be inspired to make another one, or will I mourn its loss forever, in a secret hollow in my heart?
I’m not that child. Even though she’s me, and the most solid part of this place, I’m no longer her. I think that’s where the melancholy comes from. I’m here, in this perfect place, but I still remember. I remember cars and smog and broken hearts, skinned knees and final exams and burnt dinner right before ten people walk through the front door. I remember hangovers and colds you pretend are the flu, I remember boring movies and the terror of deadlines and the sound of falling. And I miss them.
I miss being alive.
Heaven is beautiful. I’ll spend forever here, and part of me will be – content. I’ll know peace here like I never knew in life. I’ll smile every time I hear myself laugh, and nothing will change. But I will remember, too, when life was unexpected. And a part of myself, however small that might be, will sigh, and remember.
.
.
Image courtesy of Hayley Mechelle Bouchard. Her work can be found at Little Cat Photography, with more information about Hayley on Our Contributors page.