After God created love he felt himself swooning. “What is this?” he cried out to Mrs. God. “What have I done? Is it a kind of music?” “It bears a strong resemblance,” she said softly, watching the warm sea begin to rise and fall, as though longing for the moon. “Take slow, deep breaths,” she advised, “and it will pass.”
But it didn’t. All day God wandered in Eden, on the verge of weeping. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil was in full bloom. He’d made it self-pollinating, but now he changed his mind and decided that to fruit, a second tree must be planted nearby. “Close, but not too close,” Mrs. God, the horticulturalist, advised. “The bees will find it.”
Another evening, glorious among the clouds. She was humming, mending something, when God touched her shoulder. “Yes,” she said, smiling. “Yes, it was a good day.”
-157-
