I hadn't received a letter since
How were you surviving? you may ask yourselves.
Well, I wasn't really. Ask my roommate. Erratic disfunction is the best way to describe my emotions as of late.
Skipping classes just to check the mailbox. Days spent entirely in sweats. Having to take down pictures simply to be able to focus on what people were saying to me.
Thankfully, I finally received another long-anticipated letter from my missionary!!!
(you know how I use syntactic sentences of the exclamatory variety very infrequently, so that triple-decker goes to show the excitement dug into my very core)
His wonderful mother forwards me the weekly family emails, but personal communication is much less frequent, as we aren't allowed to email directly. At times this is difficult to the point of being painful.
But there's something terribly romantic about hand-written letters. It's old-fashioned, a dying art. It reminisces of a time when the men left their sweethearts behind to go to war.
As hard as it is to have him gone, I'm grateful that he's serving.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
[side note: His english is starting to fail him, thanks to the complete immersion in the culture. Unlike anyone else's grammatical errors, I find them endearing-- darling, even.]
|Glad to see his eating habits haven't changed much.|
it was a letter full of deeply personal matters.
sweet writings and tender promises.
he's a special boy.