The real story, part 3.

(Do you remember this at all?  It's really delayed, but I want to finish writing it, so here it is.  The story of how my housband and I met, then got together!!  Read part 1 here, and part 2 here.)

I felt weird about him leaving on his mission...  actually, I was quite struck by how sad I was; I had a bunch of guy friends leaving on missions, and though he was the first, I can't really recall feeling that way about any of my other friends when they left.  I sincerely missed him.

I wrote him a few letters over time, and he wrote back funny and interesting letters detailing his life. I missed him a lot. I wrote a couple other friends also on missions, but none were special to me like his. I never really thought much of it, beyond the fact that I enjoyed writing him and getting letters back, though I didn't write much.

Most of his letters were typed up via email, and his mom or someone would print them out and mail them to me.  Once, though, in the fall of 2005, I received a letter from Honduras.  It had his spidery handwriting on the envelope, which I knew so well from having a class with him--I'd never seen such small and distinct handwriting, and I immediately knew it was from him.  I was so elated.  I opened up the envelope and he'd sent me a few pictures describing different places he'd been along with his letter.  He says now that he's not sure why he sent me photos, maybe because he knew I liked photography, but he never sent any to anybody besides maybe family.  They were so special to me.  I showed them to my roommates, so excited to tell them about my friend who was on his mission and how funny he was.  Getting letters from him was so exciting... I still wonder why I didn't write him more often.

Anyway, February 2007, he was scheduled to come home. I remember thinking he'd probably come home Valentine's day, and I was SO excited. I saw his brother working at this pizza place I used to go to and asked him when he would be coming home; I even had a friend call and ask when his homecoming talk in church would be. I was so nervous, I couldn't talk to his family myself.

He was delayed a few days, and in the meantime, I traveled with some of my friends to Colorado for the weekend. I'll never forget sleeping in my friend's little sister's bed, looking out the octagon shaped window at the darkened night sky, and feeling such excitement about him coming home. Everyone asked me if we were more than friends, because I couldn't help but mention him coming home, and the answer was obviously no, but I think, somewhere, I had the hope of maybe someday something happening, even if I wouldn't have admitted it at the time.

But I had no idea what he thought of me.

On the drive home from Colorado, I finally figured that he would be home by then. We stopped in Price, Utah, and after getting back on the road, my phone rang.  I didn't recognize the number, but I answered anyway.  Turns out, it was his best friend Jacob, and my housband was there with him.  A minute later, I talked to him. I was BEYOND excited. It was so fantastic. We agreed that he'd come over to my house later on that night, so as soon as I got home, I called him, then cleaned like a crazy person.

That night, he came over. I asked him if I could hug him in my dark entry way. It was awkward.  We talked, and I felt like I could barely breathe--I was that excited. He told me about eating a turtle, the crazy people he met, what it was like for two years in a foreign country. I enjoyed it so much. I was so excited to have my best friend back.

He came over the next day. I tried to pretend like I didn't care too much or that it didn't matter he chose to spend his time with me; I didn't have a particularly busy semester, so I had a lot of free time. He came over, and we watched music videos. I remember watching Regina Spector's video for "Fidelity" at least once a day--it became a pattern. He came over almost every day until he began working, mostly because it gave him something to do, but soon I think we both realized we liked spending time together.  We had both grown up, neither of us was as mean as we had been (haha!), and it was nice to have a reliable friend.

A couple weeks later, we were dating after we admitted to each other that we liked one another.

After that, we dated for a while, were engaged for a bit, then got married.

IT WAS AWESOME.

So that's how it happened. Not as fantastic as it sounds, yes? But let me tell you: it was. Everything about dating him was so great. Though I worried writing down the experience would make it feel cheap, it was so much more than what I could ever write.  When I think back to how we got together, what it was like when we dated, I just remember it as just the most fantastic thing.  He was my first and only love--and I love it that way.

It has been a dream to be married to him.  He is just the best.