It's now been two years since that fateful see you later. That day's image is still engraved in my mind. I think about leaving his arms, trying to contemplate the thought of two years until I would be there again. I couldn't fathom the idea of my life without him. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I was stuck in that moment. An apparent void was now present in my life, a void that I didn't want filled unless it was by him.
This day was actually a week before he left, I had a week to reflect on the words exchanged. The night before, I prayed my heart out. I prayed for him and for us and the investigators, tears streamed down my cheeks as I held on to the memories, I was unsure of the future and what it would bring, but simultaneously I was filled with a sense of peace, that what I'd always dreamed of would come to be.
I sent him my first letter. It was short and simple, my testimony mostly. I wanted him to know of my love for this gospel and that I would be behind him every step of the way. It was a page, front and half of the back. The day I got that reply letter, I swear to you it was glowing the mailbox. I observed every crease and fold of the envelope along with the writing of my name in the center. I must have read it twelve times in the first half hour. I called multiple people, reading it to them. I brought it to school the next day, that first letter was symbol of what the next two years would become.
I cherish each letter as if it is the first. I run to the mail box everyday, hoping for a letter with my name on it. Our letters started out as a page, once every two-three weeks. Now, our letters are six to seven pages once a week. You ask, what do you talk about for that many pages? EVERYTHING. He's my go to when I just need to vent, I tell him my good news and my accomplishments. I tell him about my everyday, right down to my outfits. He tells me about his companion and the crazy mission stories. He shares scriptures and his testimony as I do the same. We talk about our future, our hopes, our dreams, our goals. Our letters are my little bit of heaven.
To say these two years have been hard would be understatement. I've cried, a lot. I've gotten scared. I've had my doubts. From what I hear, missionary work is no walk in the park either, but we've gotten through anything life throws us together. He's encouraged me to push myself when I can't find the strength. I've given him advice and love and American candy . And with all the hard, these past two years have been the most rewarding. I've grown as a person, my love for this gospel has been increased with each passing day. I've given my all to this relationship. I've given my heart to this boy and there is nothing more rewarding than being loved in return. I am crazy about him and sometimes I find it hard to believe that we haven't actually seen each other in two whole years. We've created memories that we can share forever. We've created traditions and inside jokes. We've laughed together and we've grown together, all with being 6,000 miles apart.
My wait is rapidly coming to a close. It's a bittersweet moment. I never thought the day would come, and it has, it really has. My life is about to change, again. The words see you later are coming true. I'm more than ready to wrap my arms around him and tell him welcome home. To tell him that he has returned with honor and he will always be my missionary. I heard the doubts and I've been questioned. And though, I knew that sometimes girls don't wait and get married, but I knew within my own beliefs and heart that that wouldn't be our case and I was right. I can say that I, Annie waited for my missionary, through the good days and the hard days, I waited.