Journies

Tuesday, November 2, 2004

“You know what’s so cool about today?” Collette was saying to OLeif on the couch with his computer. “We’re the superpower and we affect everyone, the whole world is watching us today. Not just Mexico or Canada, but the entire world. Even the little natives off in Fiji are watching us with their satellite televisions.”

She sighed a funny sigh as OLeif agreed with a maniacal smile, as if he was about to take over the world.

She poured juice in his blue glass and handed it to him, walking into the bedroom where Catalina Island watched from beyond the sun-washed blue on the ship’s camera.

It was election day – cold, gray, and windy. A perfect scenario for what was ahead. As the media always said, this was the election of the century, just about the most important presidential election of all time. Somehow Collette doubted their dramatics; however, she agreed that because of the war overseas, it was an important call.

She turned to other things – a dream she had the night before. She pondered it a moment as the score of “Pirates of the Caribbean” pounded in the other room. The dream – two houses by the street in which she lived before she and OLeif were married. Lafayette – one was large and magnificent, modernly elaborate by the old creek and grove. Another small and quaint with three tall trees and a large field beyond where there seemed to be no end. It stood solitary with an American flag where there once was another house with a yard full of Kerry campaign signs. It all seemed tied into another dream she had from long ago.

The morning was waning, and there was much to be done.

As Collette walked out to the balcony to wave goodbye to OLeif, she called down to him, “OLeif, maybe we should take this down tonight?”

She pointed to the pirate flag matted on the roof by the rain. She tugged it back down to wave in the wind, its sinister skull laughing at the street below.

“You can go ahead and take it down now,” he called back up.

“Naw, I’ll leave it up till the Democrats lose,” she joked.

He laughed and shook his head as he got into the car. She looked again at the black flag thinking, OK, maybe that wasn’t so nice, but oh well… That was usually her response to things, she realized – ‘oh well.’

She sighed once again and went back inside where the study of drug and alcohol abuse waited for her. Blah, she thought to herself.

It was cold, and she was obliged to close the window as she made OLeif’s peanut butter and jelly sandwiches earlier. The voting had gone quickly that morning, and smoothly. About thirteen punches, and it was all over, folded in half and slipped in the box, along with the usual ‘I voted’ sticker to boot. Very nice; she always kept those.

Collette began to ponder Christmas and what to get the families. She thought of her friend, Monday, who would soon take the surname of ‘Nutmeg,’ within two and a half short weeks, actually. They would all pile into the vans and head down to bayou-plantation-like Louisiana for that one – Mom, Mrs. English, Diana, (Carrie-Bri would be at another wedding), Eve, Annamaria, Rose, and Bing, with herself and OLeif of course. The old quartet was to play (with Diana on first violin, OLeif on second, Eve on viola, and Bing on cello) during the wedding, and they were all looking forward to it. A road trip could never be a bad thing, especially when going to the warm weather during November.

But during the weeks prior to the trip, much was going to go on. Diana was preparing to perform in a septet at Powell Hall with several St. Louis Symphony members. Carrie-Bri, Elizabeth, and perhaps Lucia were planning to sky-dive with Dad for Carrie’s eighteenth birthday. She would also find a university to attend, and prepare to apply to the Secret Service. Collette would hopefully have successfully completed another semester of credit, and the world would spin as usual.

One might think Colette’s life was dull, lacking the color and energy that some seemed to experience daily. But she knew that her life was an adventure – it proved itself over and over to her, and she loved the ride. She often pictured herself on a path that twisted and turned through shadows and sun, fields and mountains, past ocean and forests, mountains of fire, and all sorts of marvels. Sometimes at night, she would walk through stars and planets and marvelous constellations and wonders of the upper realms. She would pass through life in this way. There would be goodness and sadness and a mix of both. Sometimes it would be brightest day and sometimes tranquil night. The soft rains and storms would come and pass and come again. The night skies would burn with orange stars and red planets, blue moons, and green fires, all larger than would be truly possible in reality. Mushrooms would grow in the grasses by the path, large and thick, like white cakes and red, or brown. The oceans would toss up pebbles and shells that might be portals to other worlds. It would be great fun and adventure to see what new thing the tides washed in. A fire would light her path at night, a lamp she would carry. God would be there, with the stars, and the ghosts of saints and angels would whisper by her during the day hours and the night watches.

Again, Collette broke her reverie as she went to the window and saw that the mail had come. She bundled her scarf around her and pulled on her coat, as soon as the truck left. She noticed that one of her coat’s black buttons was missing off the front from the previous winter. It lay in the Chinese bucket on the bureau.

She wished there was soup left in the cupboard, but it was gone, and the hamburgers she would make that night would be for Wednesday’s and Thursday’s lunch. Thursdays and half of Fridays she would work at the church office. On the way, they would pass a Knights of Columbus hall, tucked back after a soccer field. A sign would hang by the road with a congratulations to whatever happy couple had just held their wedding reception at the hall. There might be a unique combination of names from time to time, however, they were usually common and uninteresting, such as a Sarah and Jason or Sean and Rachel. Another trivial item to the week, such as gathering the mail. They were all tiny rituals, a collecting of this, a watching for that… In the old days it would have been a picking of strawberries, a watching for honey while in the woods, or perhaps the first violets of spring. But they were small unusuals in a non-typical way.

Soon, she wrapped on her coat and headed out into the wintry chill. Upon the opening of the metal box, it revealed a thank-you from Monday for the knife set as a wedding gift and a small package of European travel brochures from Rick Steves, the very place she had thought of earlier. She was waiting, in particular, for two official letters allowing her to take psychology exams in December, and for the return of her passport with her name change. But both seemed oddly late.

The brown bean pods continued to rustle in the cold outside, and she bundled her knit scarf tighter around her neck, even while indoors. Her lovely crimson red and white cream quilt would surely be welcome that night after a long day. It had been the brilliant and most-thoughtful gift of a group of lovely women from their churches, friends, and family at their wedding. Very beautiful – and all the squares were hand-embroidered.

A nice toasted cheese would also be good, she concluded, and she went out to the kitchen to heat the frying pan. Perhaps it was a good day to contemplate all things. She had days such as those; however, her imaginings were more on things that didn’t need contemplation, and she never faired well with such thoughts. They did not seem to like each other very much, herself and those thoughts.

The sun glint so tranquilly and marvelously off the sea of Catalina Island. She wondered who might be there that day, thinking things such as she had been thinking. She hurried off to wrap her mom’s plate in starched white paper folded in and tied with a long ribbon of cream and pink rosettes. Then all was set till Christmas. Libby, her grandpa’s wife, would have pepper and nutmeg soap from the island of Granada, before the hurricane took it. She had yet to decide upon the bulk of the Christmas gifts, however.

She did like to talk to God during those mornings she had at home. It calmed her if she needed such a thing, and helped her see through thoughts she could not possibly have hoped to come around or understand. She recalled the days at home when she rarely had the house to herself to talk to Him or think aloud. But they were wonderful days no matter how much time she had to spend in such a way. And she was back often enough to tutor math and writing to Joe and Rose, that she never regretted a thing. It was odd how times passed and went on; not long ago she was writing daily an account she entitled, “Life’s a Bowl of Vegetable Soup”, indicating the diversity of life and what was lived in it. And she realized that it had already happened two and a half years ago, and so many had grown and left and moved on, of which she written then. Collette was sometimes tempted to look sadly on how quickly such things had passed, but she was reminded that it never was the end. It would always continue, and that some day there would be a never-ending life together. Then she would be forever happy. Until that time, however, she went on and enjoyed what came as best as she could.

A third sigh of the day escaped her as the low red glow of the mica lamps illumined her area of study. It was not a sigh of trouble, but one of wondering where to go next. Perhaps she felt like a walk down the road for an ice cream, or to the park for a walk… maybe she wanted to go home to Balboa where she lived nearly all her first nineteen years, and spend time, warm and cozy, playing ‘Clue’ with Linnea. Whatever it was, she didn’t feel like enjoying a lonely day with herself, so she packed her canvas satchel and prepared to leave within the hour.