Diana's First Day
Sunday, May 7, 2006
Michigan – one afternoon in the gray of the rain, they drove towards Whitefish, the northernmost tip of Michigan. And along the way the forests glowed in the gems of rubies, yellow topaz, oranges, and golds. Collette had never seen such brilliant trees – sugar maples they were, and no photograph could accurately capture their full color and thickness through the everlasting woods.
Whitefish itself was a lighthouse point near the bay, where once, years ago, the Edmund Fitzgerald had sunk, out in the waters, all hands lost. They toured the museum quietly and the gulls cried on the shore. Joe briefly got in trouble for absent-mindedly scratching some random picture into a mossed bench outside the lighthouse, with a stick, and was made to apologize to the museum staff for it (by Dad). The staff thought it was rather funny and he was excused with a chuckle. On the way home, Carrie and Joe stuck a matchbox car up on the windowsill of the van and used Rose’s camcorder in such a way as to make it somewhat appear as though the car were full-size traveling down the road to the tune of Andy Williams’ Home Lovin’ Man. And Collette listened to her Irish music and thought of pirates and OLeif and the beauty of the day.
Diana’s graduation day – 3:00 that afternoon was commencement. Oh, the excitement! And after having an interview with Tyndale Publishing House on Monday, she would fly to Pittsburgh on Tuesday to stay with her roommate, Kirsten Greene, before flying to New York for the conference. It was what Diana had always wanted – the travel and excitement of it all.
And back in St. Louis, following Sunday School and the worship service, OLeif and Collette would head down to Florissant with Dad, Mom, and the kids to meet with Grandma Combs and the Combs for the Valley of Flowers, barbecue, and the old fair.
“I’ve carried her water. I’ve answered her door.
I’ve polished the shoes for her feet-oh.
And when she went to church, then her prayer book I bore,
Behind as she marched down the street.
Oh, dear me, how can it be?
The life of a servant’s a penance to me.