“Do you think people wear flipflops in heaven?” the kid asked me one day while I was fixing my ‘lose 10 pounds in 10 days’ breakfast shake. “What?” I asked, measuring out hemp seeds and coconut butter. “Flipflops,” he said again. “Just wondered if ya get to wear 'em in heaven?” This made me take pause. Not sure I’d ever thought about what shoes were worn in heaven. If there is a heaven. And if one wears shoes there. “Don’t know,” I said. “Maybe you get to wear whatever your favorite things are, all the time. Forever and ever.” It struck me if this were indeed the case, the hereafter might be a problem for me. Would that mean picking out one necklace or pair of earrings? Which would I choose, pants or a skirt? It would probably depend on the weather. If Heaven has weather. Would also depend on if there were permanent spray tans or permanently waxed legs. But even then...to have the same thing on for all of eternity, was not really my idea of a heavenly kingdom.
I tossed in the chia seeds and reached for the immersion blender the kid had given me for Christmas. “What about our hair?” he asked. “Ya think we’ll get it cut or will it be one way for always and never change?” The last time we’d had this type of discussion, my soon to be twelve year old son, had only been three and a half. At that time, his view of Heaven was a place he might be able to touch with his toes if I pushed him high enough in his swing. Now, almost nine years later, my little half-gentile half-jew was in Hebrew school preparing to become a bar mitzvah. He was in Latin class studying the Roman gods. And in his core class, they were reading a book titled Heaven is for Real. Obviously these eternal style queries weren’t completely out of left field. Whatever the case, this discussion was interfering with my morning routine. “Go brush your teeth,” I said and flipped the switch to whip my miracle drink into shape. “Oh my God!” he shouted over the electric whirring. “I wonder if we’ll have to brush our teeth in Heaven!”