I never knew the one caught up to the third heaven. But I know a lad who made it to “just about heaven”. A clearing in the woods, along the fence line, up the hill from the crawdad pond, and before you reach the blacken Switch and its abandoned cars. The golden brown and amber leaves of fall give way to the undisturbed pure white snow. Spring brings new life and green upon the scene. Summer heat and its warm breezes leads to much activity for man and beast. The fallen timbers to be used in a youthful way. Perhaps as a cabin or a fort for play. A serene place, to be lone with self, the silence broken only by the barking of the squirrels and the activity of the birds up above. A fading memory now, “just about heaven” perhaps a youthful foretaste of Heaven yet to come.
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