On the agenda?
A bus tour of Old Town, including the Chapel on the Dunes.
At long last
Wow! I salivated at the thought of finally entering the chapel. Oh, glorious day!
After lunch, I boarded the small bus and took the seat behind the driver. I tried to listen to the historical nuggets dropping left and right from Marcy Thomas, who stood talking right behind me; but I was too distracted. No one had said anything about entering the chapel, but I was wishing and hoping nonetheless. I was so focused on this great adventure that nothing, not even motion sickness, was going to spoil it.
Then we arrived. I stepped off the bus and busied myself with my Coolpix. Up, up, up I walked among the others, most of whom had never been there before. We stepped aside for Marcy to unlock the chapel door with the inscription, COME, LISTEN TO TH HISPERS OF GOD, over it. We saw her reach for the key in her pocket and behind the scraggly bush by the door, as I wondered about the missing E and W.
“Do you have your copy of the key?” Marcy asked someone behind us.
I just knew that someone would say, “Yes. Here it is;” but Betty Bundy, with us from the museum, said no.
At that moment, I chose to make the most of my third visit. I explored the chapel all around, noticed details I’d previously overlooked, and enjoyed myself. After all, “good things come to those who wait” (Nayobe, 1984).
And who knows?
Maybe next time will be the charm for me, and Mary B will be along to share it.