That Would Be Nice

He doesn't know where he's going, but he's ready to go.  He went back and forth about it, he really wasn't sure, as if he had any control over it. His whole life, he's needed to be in control of everything.  A man who can control the weather should be able to control when he goes. "When will it happen?  Why am I still here?" he says daily.  Hourly. "Your room isn't ready," we say. "It better be a nice room or boy, will they hear about it." He's ready now. Ready to go.  Ready to go wherever you go.  If you go anywhere.  He doesn't really believe it, anyway.  The old Brooklyn agnostic.  "I never bought into any of the B.S.," he says. "That B movie stuff."

But lately.  Lately, he's been thinking it over.  Reconsidering the beginning, middle and end. Wondering what if?  What if there's really a place we go? "That would be great, Daddy," we say.  A lot.  "What do you think it's like?" he asks. "What do you want it to be like?" "I don't know.  Just a nice place where you meet up with old friends." "That would be wonderful, Daddy. Who would you like to see?" "I'd want to see Mom.  My sweetheart. What a great gal. What a nice lady. I'd really like to see Mom." "I bet she's waiting for you, Daddy.  Maybe you need to change clothes, just in case."  "She always looked nice."  "Always."  "Maybe I should put on a nice sweater."  "Something from Dick Carroll's."  "Great store." "Who else would you like to see, Daddy?" "My mom and dad.  Such nice people. Wouldn't that be great if I got to see them again?"  "It would be wonderful.  If you do, tell them we say hello. Tell Mom, too."  "I will." "Anyone else you'd like to see?" "Abe Lincoln."  "Abe Lincoln?"  "Yeah.  I'd love to talk to Abe Lincoln.  Just go up to him and say, 'Hey, Abe.  It's Ben.' Wouldn't that be nice?" "That would be very nice, Daddy."  "Not that any of it's true.  But what if it is?"  "I hope it is, Daddy."  "That would be nice."