In heaven

I hope heaven is something like the Jersey Shore.
The Jersey Shore that’s like Long Beach Island
with the surfboards and the seagulls
and with the little curly-haired kids in their tiny swimsuits running with excited fear from the shore break;
but not the Jersey Shore that is like Seaside with the greasy fries and drunken parties.
I have nothing against Seaside though, don't think that.
Watching Ferris wheels and half naked girls and guys stroll down the boardwalk is hilarious.

I hope heaven is like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day
that sends chills down your spine when you’ve been sweating for the past three hours.
And I hope there will be soft-serve chocolate ice cream in heaven. And I better be able to get extra chocolate sprinkles
every
single
time.

I hope Jesus likes me in heaven,
that all my selfish desires and pride can finally disappear when I am standing my his side
so close
that I can see the wrinkles in his forehead from years of worrying about me
and the crows feet at the corners of his eyes from years of laughing at all the stupid things I’ve done.
I hope that when I stand in front of Jesus I can
for the first time
be confident that he loves me
all of me.
I can see in the reflection of his wide pupils that he cares more for me than I can imagine.
And that it’s real.
That it’s always been real.
And he will just smile
and listen
when I tell him how sorry I am for having doubted so often and for so long.

I hope in heaven I get to have dance parties with Jesus.
I’ll do the Twist and he’ll do the Macarena and we’ll laugh for hours at how horribly our dance moves are.
And we’ll have tears in our eyes that glisten in the golden sun
for all eternity.