Here it is, the final installment of my ten-year anniversary of my mission letters! This is the end.
We had interviews this week. I asked President Palmer if I had to be
transferred. He said he could keep me here another six months. I was kind of
surprised at his response, so I repeated, "Six months." Then he said,
"That was a tongue-in-cheek question, right?" To which I responded,
"Only somewhat." I wish I had responded differently. I think he
thought I was ungrateful for the six months so he recanted. I should have
accepted them.[1]
I've never been so sad in all my life.[2]
I have to tell you some important stuff. The Clarkston missionaries live with a couple called the Larsons, who are heading down to Utah for Thanksgiving with a trailer. I went there for exchanges this weekend and I took stuff with me for them to take down. I found a green plastic tub just hanging around in the cubby of our apartment, so I packed it full of stuff I won't need this week. (I wasn't planning on putting in my journal, but I might have accidentally. I hope so, because now I can't find it. :( )[3] I don't think I'll end up bringing back my sheets. We have enough back home, I know, and the elastic from one set broke, and another missionary might want my skull pillowcase.[4] I'll probably bring down the blanket and pillow, though. I think I have less stuff leaving here than I did leaving the MTC, just because of all the stuff I've sent home, so hopefully the airport won't be a problem.
The Larsons are also taking down my bike. I hope there's not snow on the ground when I get home so I can bike around the neighborhood for therapy purposes.[5] The Larsons taking stuff down will be so much easier because I don't have to figure out how to take my bike apart, or how to put it together. I can do wheels, but I don't know about pedals and handlebars. The Larsons have family in the Foxboro development where it's flat ("Orchard Hills" my foot).[6] I told them we live on the hill, east of there. (My directions are a lot better on the mission than they were back home.) I put our address and phone number on the tote. I've been in Idaho so long at first I put 208 as the area code, so I had to scribble it out. I also put your cell phone. I hope it's still [redacted].
Right now at the library there is a baby crying. That often makes me sad but with my mood it makes me especially so. Whenever I got home from a youth conference or something like that I would be morose for a few days. Those were only things that lasted a few days. This has been two years! I'm going to be a great, big mess.[7] I don't care about dinner. I'd probably rather go to a sit down restaurant or have a homemade meal.[8]
We're at the dumb Lewiston library today, and today is not fully P-day because of Thanksgiving. I'm running out of time, but that's OK. 2 John 1:12[9]
Sadness, misery, and depression,
Elder Melville
I have to tell you some important stuff. The Clarkston missionaries live with a couple called the Larsons, who are heading down to Utah for Thanksgiving with a trailer. I went there for exchanges this weekend and I took stuff with me for them to take down. I found a green plastic tub just hanging around in the cubby of our apartment, so I packed it full of stuff I won't need this week. (I wasn't planning on putting in my journal, but I might have accidentally. I hope so, because now I can't find it. :( )[3] I don't think I'll end up bringing back my sheets. We have enough back home, I know, and the elastic from one set broke, and another missionary might want my skull pillowcase.[4] I'll probably bring down the blanket and pillow, though. I think I have less stuff leaving here than I did leaving the MTC, just because of all the stuff I've sent home, so hopefully the airport won't be a problem.
The Larsons are also taking down my bike. I hope there's not snow on the ground when I get home so I can bike around the neighborhood for therapy purposes.[5] The Larsons taking stuff down will be so much easier because I don't have to figure out how to take my bike apart, or how to put it together. I can do wheels, but I don't know about pedals and handlebars. The Larsons have family in the Foxboro development where it's flat ("Orchard Hills" my foot).[6] I told them we live on the hill, east of there. (My directions are a lot better on the mission than they were back home.) I put our address and phone number on the tote. I've been in Idaho so long at first I put 208 as the area code, so I had to scribble it out. I also put your cell phone. I hope it's still [redacted].
Right now at the library there is a baby crying. That often makes me sad but with my mood it makes me especially so. Whenever I got home from a youth conference or something like that I would be morose for a few days. Those were only things that lasted a few days. This has been two years! I'm going to be a great, big mess.[7] I don't care about dinner. I'd probably rather go to a sit down restaurant or have a homemade meal.[8]
We're at the dumb Lewiston library today, and today is not fully P-day because of Thanksgiving. I'm running out of time, but that's OK. 2 John 1:12[9]
Sadness, misery, and depression,
Elder Melville
[1] Of
course, I don’t think he was seriously offering me six months.
[2]
This was the last email I sent on my mission, and I was super sad to come back.
Sometimes I think back and get sad feelings when I think about how I felt and
think about how long ago this was. Ten years!?? But when I was home for two
years, I thought that was a long time; when I was home six months, I thought
that was a long time.
[3] I
did indeed put my journal in the tub, for some reason, so when I came home, I
went back and filled in the dates from the last week and a half of my mission.
[4] I
became notorious for the skull pillowcase I used. Sometimes I miss it, but I
could probably buy another if I really wanted.
[5] By
“therapy,” I meant “to make me less sad.”
[6]
Around 2005, a city councilwoman wanted to rename North Salt Lake “Orchard
Hills,” even though much of NSL is not on the hills.
[7] It
took me about two years not to be sad that I was home, but the first few weeks
were the worst.
[8] My
mom wrote, “I hate to bring up a subject that you would like to ignore but I
need to know if there is anything in particular that you would like for dinner
next Monday. We could cook something you love or go out somewhere that
you want to go. If you can bring yourself to let us know that would be
nice.” They got Little Caesars for lunch that day, and then they made Hawaiian haystacks
for dinner.
[9] “Having
many things to write unto you, I would not write with paper and ink: but I
trust to come unto you, and speak face to face, that our joy may be full.”
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