I’ve thought a lot about dying.
Not in a sad kind of way. Certainly not in that “how long can I last” mindset. My imagination goes to how beauteous it’s going to be.
I can just see it. I’m sitting there with two of my best friends in an ice cream shop next to this little park that has a swing set and teeter-totter. Five of the cutest little children are chasing each other. Two moms and one dad are guarding the perimeter.
Charlie has a chocolate milkshake. His upper lip looks frosty and painted brown. Winston is on a diet. The silly man is sucking a club soda through a yellow straw.
I’m chomping on a two-decker cone. Strawberry on the bottom, French vanilla on top.
The little girl outside does the age-old trick. She slides off the teeter-totter. Her little friend hits the ground with a bump.
I laugh. The French vanilla dip slips off my cone.
Charlie and Winston crack up laughing at me.
I fall off my stool and go right to heaven.