A Confirmation

I had spent the day trying to get rid of stuff,

but I'm too nostalgic.

Everything has a memory with Jeff.

A shirt he complimented,

a dried flower he gave me,

the dress I wore when he danced with me,

the shoes I wore on our first date.

I've been trying so hard to hold on to what I could,

and I had a boyfriend.

Life is really confusing for a girl with a missionary

who loves a boy who is there now.

Girls, it's okay.

It's okay to date.

It's okay to have a boyfriend.

Just know how it's going to hurt him,

and you,

when you have to choose.

I chose Jeff.

My boyfriend stayed a little too late at my house watching a movie.

We'd forgotten to look at the time.

My parents kicked him out around 12:30am and they were upset.

It wasn't until my mom looked me in the eye and said,

"who are you?"

Who am I.

I had felt like I was loosing myself all day long.

Thinking of your missionary when you're dating someone else is a guilt trip,

and I couldn't help but think of Jeff always.

It didn't help that his letter was taking four months.

I didn't know if he had moved on,

if he wanted me to move on,

if he had forgotten about me,

if the letters were getting lost,

I didn't know.

I went down to my room and bawled my eyes out,

to the point when hiccups came.

I said a silent prayer to,

"send me someone, please!"

Then walked in my mom.

We talked about everything that was bothering me.

A good talk.

A long talk.

I calmed down.

Then she left.

As I was laying in bed thinking everything over,

how confusing my life had become.

I said another quiet prayer,

"show me what to do."

Then,

it was as if someone whispered in my ear.

"Go and get the mail."

I made me jump!

I looked over at my clock.

Two o'clock in the morning.

I thought to myself,

"It's 2:00 in the morning?! Why should I get it now? Anything that's in there now will be there when I wake up."

But I ignored myself,

wrapped myself in a blanket,

snuck out of my house,

and went to get the mail.

I couldn't see the letters in the dark,

not to mention I was afraid to look to see if one said Elder Gibson on it.

I waited until I was in my kitchen before I sifted through the letters.

It didn't take long to find his.

14 pages long.

A continuous effort since July.

Elder Gibson!

I

gasped,

grabbed the letter,

ran to my room,

read it,

cried,

prayed thanks,

read it,

cried,

prayed thanks,

and went to sleep happy.
A confirmation.
That letter came at just the right moment.