When I was little I used to wonder where people would go when they died.

I learned about souls. Learned about heaven. It sounded like a great place.

I looked at the clouds above and tried to jump and touch them.

My Dads friend asked what I was doing. I told him, I’m trying to touch the clouds. And kept jumping. Each time thinking I was getting closer.

Then he told me not to be silly, you can’t do that.

It’s the first time I remember someone telling I couldn’t do something. There in the courtyard with the trees with the orange flowers.

The clouds must be heaven I thought. If I could touch them I’d find all the people who’d gone there and ask them about it.

A TV show talked about people watching over, souls from above. They must be in the clouds I thought. There might even be people hovering around watching us. Right there.

In bed I’d lay there. Trying to imagine the whole universe. Scared that robbers were going to come. That ghosts were around. One lived in the attic. The old man who passed away in our house before we moved in.

Since then my fears of the house been haunted have calmed down. I still try to imagine the universe. And I wonder where souls go when times up. Over my right shoulder maybe or was it the left?

Younger me tried to jump for the clouds. They seemed so far away. Listened to my Dads friend. You can’t do that.

Older me realised they were closer than I thought. Right there.