When playing Scrabble this week, we had our usual conversation about her soul. She—offering me her soul in exchange for some decent tiles. Me—refusing her offer and advising her that she might need it someday to join Dad in heaven.
This time the conversation took a new turn.
“Well, you could come with me and give me back my soul when we arrive.”
“But Mom, that would require me to die too.”
“Well, maybe you could just visit and before anyone knows what is happening, I could grab my soul and you could run away.”
Then she grinned. “Or we could fight each other for it.”
Did I mention that I got my competitive streak from Mom?”