Marvelous by Travis Thrasher

Author:Travis Thrasher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / General
ISBN: 9781612917207
Publisher: The Navigators
Published: 2014-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

What are you doing?

It’s late and I can’t stop thinking of Marvel. Maybe she’s up, so I’m trying her on Facebook.

I wait for a while. Ten minutes. Twenty. I wonder what she’s doing, whether she’s dreaming, or watching television, or simply sleeping.

Listening to music, the reply finally says.

What are you listening to?

My favorites. Ever heard of A Fine Frenzy?

No, I write back.

Love her.

What does she sound like?

She sounds exactly how I feel, Marvel says.

For a moment I have to think about that. Happy or sad? I ask.

Yes.

Both? I ask.

Maybe.

Marvel sounds just like herself online. Playful and funny.

I open Spotify and find A Fine Frenzy. It’s a woman singing softly. She sounds sad, deep, beautiful. A lot like Marvel seems to be. I like it, I tell her.

I picture her in her room, listening to the same song I’m listening to. It’s kinda cool, thinking we’re together even though walls and miles and the dark night keep us apart.

Do you ever think about what you’ll be like ten years from now? she asks.

I never look ahead.

Why?

I’m not sure how to answer. I don’t know. Seems too far off.

Sometimes I let myself imagine. What might be. What could be.

The song is sad. I almost change it, but I don’t. I let it play.

Do you dream a lot? Marvel asks.

Like in my sleep?

Yeah.

Sure.

I think about the conversations I used to have with Taryn, texting or talking on our cells. She’d always be telling me about this girl or that girl, and she’d be complaining and whining. But Marvel is different. She asks me about what life might be like ten years from now and whether I dream a lot.

Sometimes I see myself hovering over a large canvas, as if I’m the painter’s brush. The colors change and the picture is so beautiful.

I don’t know what Marvel is talking about, but I keep listening.

Sometimes I think I get small glimpses of heaven. Not the kind I can imagine, because what I see is beyond my imagination. Is that crazy?

Yeah, I type. But a cool kind of crazy.

Sometimes I work with clouds like they’re pieces of clay. Sometimes I make rectangular shapes out of rainbows. Sometimes I finger-paint poems all over the sky.

I laugh. This girl is definitely crazy. Not sure what to say to that, I answer.

Can you picture it? I don’t know—sometimes I think heaven is like that beautiful dream we wake up from and want to go back to. We spend the day longing to fall back asleep in order to see something wonderful again. And one day, when we take that last breath, the dream becomes reality.

All I can think is that I don’t want to sleep and I don’t want to dream. I just wish I could see Marvel now and talk to her in person.

I’m rambling, she writes.

I like reading it.

I feel comfortable enough to tell you all this. I don’t know why.

Something I wanted to say the other day comes to mind. I’m sorry for everything you’ve gone through.

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