She reached her room and stood in the doorway, enjoying the sight of the simple double bed with the pineapple finials, the blue bordered butterfly quilt, the pillows she knew would smell like home. She walked to the closet to change out of her dress and into a soft flannel nightgown, soft as material that had been washed many times, almost threadbare, but strong and not ready to wear out yet.

She looked down and saw a pair of black spectator sandals. These sandals were frivolous and high heeled. She thought they looked out of place in the simple house.

She bent down and with fingers still bent, but unencumbered by arthritis, picked up the shoes by their heels and sat on the end of the bed with them in her hands. She slowly put one on her left foot, it fit. This meant it would be too big for her right foot and it would never stay on. She lifted her right foot and the sandal slipped on. and fit. This made no sense, but so little had really seemed to make perfect sense in this first strange and exciting day of the rest of her afterlife that she put her feet on the ground and carefully stood up.

She looked at her feet and smiled. She was wearing pretty shoes. She took steps, careful steps.

Then she jumped. In heels. Which would have been folly, but her feet held. Her ankles held. her legs held.

And then she danced. Noisily. She clomped and tapped and swirled the skirt of her nightgown around her. She held her arms out at her sides and spun in circles. She laughed out loud, deep and enjoyably. She spun till she was dizzy and collapsed on the bed and hugged her pillow. She felt her heartbeat slowing to a steady regular thump. She breathed deeply, then she stood and danced again.

In other parts of the house, the other women heard the commotion, the clutter, the thumping and then the laughing. Each smiled and wiped a happy tear as they welcomed their new girl home with songs in their hearts. She was free from pain and here she was, dancing her way into Heaven. Just as she had always hoped.