The Flying Van

The boy looked around him. The commotion was endless. Uncles strode around trying to look purposeful. Aunts mostly just sat and stared. He stood by the window and watched. Almost everyone was outside now. Only a few remained inside. His parents weren't among them.

They loaded him into a van. It was pale blue. The really old, faded, pale blue that's fit for metal office desks. His father and two of his brothers did it. Heave up! Now inwards, push! Wow. They must have some muscles... Wait. They closed the doors. Why was no one else going?

He tapped his aunt's waist. Being six, he couldn't get any higher. "Where are they taking him?" he asked. "He's going to heaven." He stood there at the window. Watched the van leave the garage. Watched it trundle down the road. Watched it go out of sight. Everyone came back into the house.

He stood at the window. He could still see it. Out of the city it went, now. Past the clustered traffic-filled roads, into narrower, more open ones. Heading for the hills now. Slowly making its way up. Mid-afternoon sun glinted off the windshield as it made its way up the winding road, turning left, then right, then left again, climbing, climbing...

And finally, it was at the top. Taking a long run-up, it made for the edge of the hill, shooting out into the sky, soaring up, up, onto a path made of golden sunlight, heading straight for its source.

He stood at the window and watched it all happen.