‘I think this, I think that, wah wa boo hoo,’ Paul infuriates, ‘come on!’ Paul is so angry his fists are white. I can see his hands melting like noodles in water. ‘Everyone wastes their time!’
Paul sits, then stands. He moves to the side, bends down, now up. He motions to sit with him, ha, to sit in the garden planter. Setting his slippers by the wood stack he dives into the compost. I watch the leaves go down his back.
‘Everyone wants out of here,’ Paul chews a piece of bark, ‘move on, let’s go, hurry up, they say.’
I see a leaf peeking out of his ear.
‘But what if they realized there was a heaven? Ha, don’t they realize all their memories will be eternal.’
Paul spreads out onto his stomach. Lifting his hind legs like a dolphin he flips up leaves like rain.
‘Certain memories will never be forgotten,’ Paul seems to look around himself. I watch Paul squish leaves between palms. ‘Up there, every moment will be replayed, over and over, over and over… It will always be a part of you.’
Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap.
‘And what if you didn’t see it, feel it, taste it now? Why would you in heaven?’ I picture a sower, a reaper, and how my actions, hey, even my feelings become memories. How I reap some memories, at least some of them, some memories go blank, black. Sometimes there aren’t memories, just a pure negative sign.
‘We cannot overload eternity, no matter how hard we try, with abundant lives down here. No, no, the problem is you cannot take with you what you haven’t already prepared for the journey. We aren’t filling our luggage.’ I watch Paul seep into the leaves, I watch his hair weave deep into the colors.
I think to myself, maybe once a week I’ll start packaging some memories.