Once I heard Heaven. Not as peaceful as I expected, at first I struggled to hear any one voice.
They talked slowly, and each voice grew in volume before fading away, as if floating lazily past. Many sang in foreign tongues. One line I understood, sung by a woman, lasted five minutes.
“Oh to be where the grass is greener…”
The first word took up half that time, drawn out in wistfulness. There were no harps, but I heard a steel drum. People ask how I knew it was Heaven. I say I’d heard my father calling, they smile sadly.