As usual, I read a letter from Lucas to make me feel better. DEAR OAKLEY, HAVE YOU EVER WONDERED WHAT HEAVEN LOOKS LIKE? I HAVE. I’VE HEARD IT’S BEAUTIFUL. PEACEFUL. I’M HOPING IT’S TRUE. I DON’T THINK I COULD DEAL WITH UNICORNS AND RAINBOWS OR SOMETHING WEIRD LIKE THAT. I WONDER IF THEY PLAY BASKETBALL THERE. THAT WOULD BE ALL KINDS OF AWESOME. YOU SHOULD PICTURE ME PLAYING BASKETBALL WHEN THERE’S A THUNDERSTORM. THE THUNDER WOULD PROBABLY BE ME SWEARING THOUGH . . . HA HA. I HOPE IT’S WARM. WITH LOTS OF SUNSHINE AND TREES AND GRASS. GREEN. ALIVE. A PLACE I CAN BE CONTENT AND HAPPY. PARADISE. LOVE, LUCAS I reread the letter several times. Not because it doesn’t make sense, but because Lucas seemed to have it all figured out before he died. I hope he’s playing basketball every day. The front door opens and I put Lucas’s notebook away before going to see who’s home.
