The perfect walk on the perfect day

Yesterday I went for a walk with two old friends. It was the perfect day to be out in the woods. The air was warm, the sun was shining, and the poems from Laura's blog were on my mind.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow.

I've often wonder just where is heaven? Is it:

... into the next room.
Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together
is untouched, unchanged.

My grandfather was always finding a penny, a nickel and quarter, on the sidewalk. He would go for walks in the woods and come out with deer antlers, arrow heads, old cannon balls, quartz crystals the size of your fist. I could've just walked by that very same piece of road, that same section of woods and come up empty handed. But Grandpa, would emerge cradling the treasures of the world.

So, when I'm out walking and I find a penny, I pick it up and say, "Pennies from heaven. A penny from Grandpa." And I get the sense that he is close. But is this just the wishful thinking of a granddaughter for her beloved grandfather?

Yesterday when we were walking, while listening to stories about our town when cars were not so popular and trips to the store for sugar or milk were made on clamp-on roller skates, I was wondering about heaven. I was hoping for a sign, as in the poem, that death takes us into another room. I was hoping for some concrete evidence that life goes on.

The air clear, the trail dry, we made good progress. I asked about our house, when you were a little boy. "Do you remember the apple orchard?"

"No, I just remember the house and the sisters." Previous walks and previous stories had told me one sister was quite short and when she drove their car you could barely see her head above the steering wheel.

While walking past the spot where the old tractor got stuck, I noticed a toad. A huge one that was slow enough for me to capture for a minute. I had never seen one so big, outside of a museum. As our trek continued we crossed a stream I spied a frog, and checked for tadpoles.

As we cut through the meadow two snakes darted into the grass. Now I shared my story of running along an old rail trail and watching HUGE black water snakes slither off the trail ahead of me. "I don't mind snakes after seeing sometimes 10 or more on the trial."

Up ahead, I pointed out small pink and purple wildflowers in bloom. All my interest in nature was causing my friend to chuckle and got me the name Nature girl. I laughed too.

After rounding the corner by the pond, I found a perfect turkey feather. My eyes were the size of half dollars, as I swifty reached down and picked it up. "It's a beauty!" Later I used the feather to lift a tiny snake off the path.

On the path towards home, I was taking inventory of all the wonderful things we had seen: 4 snakes, 1 jumping spider, 2 frogs, a toad, wildflowers. It had been a great walk, with great company, great stories, and great sightings. And then I saw it. In a place where we had walked a million times, and millions had tred before us: a deer antler. The vision of my Grandfather smiling face flashed into my mind.

And I knew heaven is here on earth. In the next room. That nothing has changed. I whispered his familiar name, Grandpa, and I said, "thank you."