Those are the words of The Blue Man in Mitch Albom’s The Five People you Meet in Heaven, describing what his heaven is like.

As someone who grew up believing in a very Christian heaven, part of me smirks at the versions of heavens depicted in the book.

And yet, there is a hope – a quite unChristian wish – that perhaps, if God might change His mind, that heaven can be the places we imagine it to be, shaped and moulded by our innermost desires, of dreams unfulfilled, love unrequited and sights unseen.

If I could choose a heaven, if at the end of my life I am deserving of one, what would mine be like? In a place frozen in a time of my choosing, that will be mine alone?

What kind of place would give me solace that is meaningful?

I would want to go home to Ipoh, back to my teenage years, back to my alma mater, the Methodist Girls’ Primary School. Before I’d met my husband, my life as a student of this school had been the happiest 12 years of my life.

I’d sit under that big old rain tree with its huge, sprawling brances that could shelter two whole classes of pupils. Spend my days in our makeshift classroom on the top floor of Canyon Cottage when I was in Form Four, with its crawling ivy and cracking walls that must’ve been painted and repainted a thousand times. Take walks through the back lanes and hidden pavements that thread the campus, through the badminton courts and canteen, over our proud sports field, and through that gigantic hall of brick and cement  separating the primary and secondary parts of the school.

Solace. That was what school was to me back then. From confusion and rejection and pain.

What is YOUR version of heaven?