Matt W Cook

Asha is in her bed. Joe is in ours, just a little too unnerved to sleep on his own due to stories about Bloody Mary he heard from day camp. Deva is swaddled up in the corner, his form barely illumined by the light of our computer screen. We are continuing our game of Heroes of Might and Magic 3, sharing chocolate and trying to keep our laughter down so we don’t wake our sons.

Then the chocolate is gone and we decide  to catch up with some of our favourite TV shows. We slip into the living room, depositing Joe in his own bed along the way. My HDMI cable is finicky, and it’s a while before we can connect the computer to the television. By the time it’s done we’ve forgotten all about Dexter and Breaking Bad. We lounge on the floor while watching our favourite anime opening themes on YouTube. We laugh together as we share the last beer.  We make out under the light of the TV screen. We slip outside and make love on the balcony, wrapped in Toronto’s fragrant darkness.

Later, I sit alone staring at the city skyline, indulging in a rare cigarette and reveling in a now-familiar settled joy. The night air is gentle against my face.  The moon climbs the sky while I watch.

The thing about heaven is that it’s right there–in my grasp, in my heart. I sip my cool water and wonder why it took me so long to figure that out.