After two long years, I finally got THE letter. The one confirming that my missionary son has a ticket home! Yeah! It's really going to happen! That quiet teenage boy...turned man in the blink of an eye...is coming home October 8 - two months from now! I asked him how he thinks he's changed the most, and says that he's not as materialistic.
Which is such a relief, because...here's the thing:
Your bed? Well, I guess if you're picky, that would include your bedroom -- Nat would like to know if you'd mind hanging your hammock in the hall? Little sisters, I know they can be pains. Speaking of which, your other little sister, Whitney, she's loving your car. It runs on natural gas you know? About .75 cents a gallon. Pretty sweet. But she did save your phone for you (like, duh). She just took the number it goes with. Then there's your I-pod. The girls tell me you wouldn't want it even if it did still work, because it's so old and outdated. Which leaves your laptop. The one I'm currently writing this blog on. The one I've written almost two full novels on. Yeah. That one. We're going to have to discuss that .
But please don't freak out. Think of the lady who lives in the stick hut. The one who can't even think of what else she'd want. Remember how happy she is.
Besides, you still have your clothes. Assuming they fit with all the weight you've lost.
And I promise, no matter what, I won't let your sisters hang a hammock in the hall.
Don't worry, I've got your back. That's what moms are for.