Joan

by Katherine J. Chen

“She isn’t in a dark place,” Joan says to the grandmother. “When one dies, the moment of death is very brief. One instantly wakes again, as if roused from a light sleep, and the soul is transported between heartbeats to another world. This child will find herself in a meadow, a place unlike any other. On every wildflower, a butterfly. In every tree, a songbird. The sun never shines too bright, for the hands of the angels moderate its rays, and from their mouths, they blow cooling breezes so the climate is eternally spring. It is a place God reserves for only His most loved, the innocent souls He has called back to Him. In this place, she is no longer an infant but fully grown, yet none will ever covet her beauty or seek to tempt and destroy her. She will never want for anything, but it will be given, before she can even anticipate her desire. She will not feel hunger or pain; her heavenly body will move across the space of this great meadow and spin through orchards resplendent with fruit, of a kind we are unable to cultivate in this world, much less taste. But all the boughs of heaven’s gardens will hang heavy for her, and she will drink from the streams of Paradise, whose water is as pure as it is sweet.”