Graduation

Sunday, May 29, 2005

It was difficult to really figure out how Saturday had went – Graduation Day. All the graduates were looking sharp and lovely in black gown and shining red. And Mom was looking splendid in her new dress suit and earrings. Even Carrie-Bri had finally settled again on the jean skirt, her black lace top and shrug, and a gleaming diamond necklace. She looked very beautiful as always.

On such an occasion as this, there would always be things that were unfortunately forgotten, such as who said what and where and about what. But there was family there to greet Carrie-Bri – both grandmas, Grandpa and Martha, Uncle Hilario and Aunt Corliss, and even (Great) Aunt Rebecca, who drove a good long way to be there. They were all so very proud of Carrie. Collette later heard Mr. Friendly talking to Mom:

“Wow – I just didn’t realize how ambitious Carrie was. Wonderful.”

There were so many old faces there, and Carrie was stopped by many of them to say “hi”. It was mostly like a big family reunion. Some of them had changed somehow, without Collette realizing it until then: Justus, Shepherd, Diana, Velvet and Alfonso, Titus Friendly, and so many others. Most of them were there once again.

And the ceremony itself had passed almost flawlessly, Justus giving a dynamic speech, and Carrie and the others, presenting smoothly and coolly. OLeif narrated quite well, and “Dude” snapped a great set of pictures. And Carrie heartily enjoyed herself later at Shakespeare with Clover, Unn, and Bodil and Louis.

Outside that evening… the light was fading in the gray, the trees were hung with green and ferns, pots of orange and gold flowers, ivy crawling upward, the swing in the corner tree, Rose’s sweet little garden by her window-well of marigolds and pumpkins, which she had lined simply with sea glass and shells. Dad’s window garden had been accidentally removed, however.

“Mom,” Rose called, kneeling by the window, “why did Dad mow over my flowers?”

Earlier, church had come and gone. Although it hadn’t seemed like a normal church service. Perhaps because there had been no Sunday school to teach, or perhaps because Collette’s mind was completely involved in other thoughts. But Francis and Linnea played as usual, running about in shorts and light shirts as they were involved in a skit with Joe (as a camp leader) and Rose, Samantha, and several girls for VBS advertising. They played tag around the front until Mom caught them and had them sit in the atrium with herself and Collette a spell.

“Well, Linnea,” Mom looked at Linnea’s new sandals, “I wonder whatever happened to your old sandals after they were washed away at the beach. Probably in a whale belly.”

“Probably on the way to China,” Linnea reasoned. “I donated it to them.”

Meanwhile, Linnea revealed a lovely golden bloom she held in her hand.

“No, Linnea,” Collette saw it. “You can’t pick that; it’s part of the landscaping.”

“What?” Linnea looked scared. “I can’t pick them?”

“No, dear,” Mom looked up quickly. “If the janitors saw you with that, they wouldn’t be happy.”

“Quick,” Collette encouraged her, “go put it back. Replant it.”

“I can’t,” Linnea giggled.

“Then go stick it back on the stem.” Collette waved her off.

Linnea soon returned.

“I threw it in with the dandelions,” she explained.

And back in church, the podium slipped under Pastor Hatch during the sermon, nearly toppling both over onto the floor below. It had been met with gasps and giggles, in sequential order. Thankfully, Sinai caught it before it crashed, miserably.

However, Mrs. Battledore had been present, visiting from Kirk. And she brought news of Dr. Trade-Winds’ retirement the following winter of 2006. It saddened Collette to hear this, and she wondered what Carrie-Bri would say. Dr. Trade-Winds’ had always been her rock in a sense. Changes, always changes.

Dinner had brought the usual laughs and conversations, minus Carrie-Bri who had been called into work once again. OLeif had just mentioned a time-capsule, and Francis and Linnea were quite intrigued.

“I could put a picture of the family in it,” Francis suggested.

“We should put pennies in it,” Linnea thought aloud, “and then earlier when I’m older, I’ll have a thousand dollars, because they’ll be worth more.”

“You mean, “later” when you’re older,” Mom laughed.

“I’ll bury a piece of my birthday cake!” Francis added. “So then they’ll know what our food tasted like.”

Collette left briefly, and returned to hear Francis include:

“And then we should put a time-bomb in it and float it down the Amazon!”

Following dinner there had been a viewing of the news which had added to Collette’s aggravation with the world. A short clip of the pope riding in his “pope-mobile”, as Dad called it, was one of the few unoffensive pieces at least.

And then over Xtreme badminton, with four birdies flying together at once, Rose ran out with her racket and a completely oblivious:

“Happy Birthday!”

…for no apparent reason whatsoever. This was soon followed by a:

“Bellybutton brain!”

…as an insult to the opposing team. There was also a snide rib at Collette’s nose, which usually surfaced when Carrie was present. Although this time it came from Joe. It was Carrie’s novel idea that the Sphinx’s missing nose had been replanted on Collette’s face. It was frightfully long and Sphinx-like in appearance. Collette assumed it was either from Jewish or Italian blood, neither of which she was related to, of which she was aware.

And so they swung and swung their arms off, despite the giggles over comments and jibes at either teams, until it was time for Justus’ recital.

Justus’ recital had been quite pleasant, humble, and rather brief, but a good way of saying goodbye to a young man who had been such a warm heart to all the people in their circle. And afterward, there were lemon squares and cake and punch. He would be leaving for Tennessee in the fall, and it was sad to see him go.

But people came and grew and left. And there was that constant comfort that no matter where the Christians of the world would roam… if they never returned in the present world, they would be seen again by their friends and family in the life to come.

Perhaps it was the sentimentality of the day, the Memorial Day (unobserved), as it was. “Taps” played on the Eric Kunzel concert where Mom, Dad, and the others watched, followed by “The Lord’s Prayer”. It was a day of remembrances, fond and sad. And on the way home, a lightening storm lit up the night sky.