*Please forgive me for filling the blog with thoughts that are completely unrelated to the Writing Center. This is normally the sort of thing I would write on my personal blog, but there were a few people I didn't want to read it, but I just felt the need to semi-say it. I hope thats understandable. Feel no obligation to read it and comment. I just feel better having it out there. To conclude this preface, I just want to say this is a letter to amissionary friend.

Dear Landon,
Ever since your last letter, I've been thinking about you a lot. I guess it hasn't been necessarily you that I was thinking about, but more us; and not us as we are now but more how we used to be.
I love the memories I have of you picking me up for school, sometimes having to come in my room and wake me up and then sit on the couch and eat cereal while you are waiting for me to get ready (which only took a max of 10 minutes). Then, when we got to school we would determine whether or not we wanted to be there that day, and if we didn't we'd leave and find something better to do. Which was almost always hiking with our guitars on our backs and then camping in the grass while you strummed Donovan Frankenreiter songs and I would lie on my back and ask you questions about anything I was thinking about at the moment. We'd be back at school just in time for practice (which was the only thing you took seriously) and I would go to work. You'd pick me up from work, we'd go find more ways to worry our parents, you'd take me home at midnight, we'd talk on the phone for a good three hours, and then the whole thing would start over the next day. It's strange to me now that I could spend so much time with one person and never ever get tired of being with them.
I've always been free-spirited (I prefer that term over "rebellious") but you were free-spirited to a higher degree. Like that time during summer vacation we were talking on the phone at about four in the morning and I mentioned that someday we should ride our bikes and meet halfway between our houses, just like I used to do in elementary school, and you agreed that it would be fun, but that we should do it now. NOW? I'm not sure what my exact thought process was but I know I jumped out of bed and within a minute we were standing, short of breath and face to face on the sidewalk. From then on it was a ritual, whenever it seemed fitting we'd sneak out of our houses and spend a few extra hours running around Draper. And thats not the only memory that makes me wonder "what was I thinking?" Like that time you and Spence dared me to skivvy down and take a dip in the community pool while you two turned around and waved at all the construction workers, or lying on top of the suburban while Cam bounced down Corner Canyon trying to shake us off. It's really amazing to me that we only took one trip to the ER and that at the end of our high school careers we were only vaguely familiar with Draper's police officers. Between truancy, breaking curfew, and our flagrant trespassing of anything curious and mildly dangerous looking we could be found lying on the roof of Trav's treehouse talking about our dreams and goals for the future. Most of mine haven't changed much, but one thing has changed: you're not in them. You're last letter sounded so much like you, it was scary. You haven't changed at all. Somehow you've managed to keep one year of missionary work out of your letters. All I get is banter, rebellious anecdotes, and some miss-you's. I still uphold you as one of my deepest friends, but I don't feel the need to be with you now. I guess the truth is that I'm not like I used to be. I've grown up. It's hard to explain. I still find myself committed to spontaneity and minor law-breaking. Skinny dipping has been a hard habit to break. But although I still cherish our years together as the ones where I lived, loved, and laughed the most; I need something more than that. Running around in the mountains all day is amazing, but where is the substance, the depth? I still crave a relationship like ours, one where I can spend every minute of my life with a person and everyday is more fun than the last, but I also need someone that I can work hard with, which is something we never really did (unless you count hanging Christmas lights at the cabin, which was absolutely hard work.) It's heart-breaking but the man of my dreams just isn't you anymore. I'm not sure who it is but I'm sure I'll figure it out someday. Anyway, you'll never get this letter because I'm too afraid to send it. Instead, you'll get a response about the NBA, my family, and school. I'm sure once you get home you'll be able to see that things are different, I've changed. But know that although we may never be able to be like we once were, I would like you as my friend forever.


Chan said...

Oh man. That sounds like something from a sweetly-wrenching loss-of-innocence flick, "Hearts in Atlantis" goes to high school, or something. Or a Format song. How sad! I just finished watching Wall-E, which is less complicated than all that. But it his strengthened my resolve to not buy paper plates. How's a mission for you looking? Don't feel obliged to answer that.

Anonymous said...

It's hard when you recognize that people need to change roles in your life--or tell them their role has to change because of your personal transformation. Especially when you are so attached, you know the glue that holds you together is some incomprehensible, spiritual adhesive. But can't you wait for the afterlife?!! Friends forever--I like that phrase in its literal meaning. And, during forever, you can love them the way you have loved them, even deeper, without conforming to any social norms or restraints, without having to justify or differentiate. Since we are living a part of forever right now (just with limitations) I admire you Brittany for actually living it. And, whether this outpouring gets sent or not (I think it should, but that's the implusive me speaking) I think this will be a great learning experience. (And I'm sure you already know that)

Britt said...

Oh ChanMan, Before I get to your questions, what did you mean when you said "how sad", whats sad about it? Now to the mission, a few days ago I had an epiphany about the mission thing. Its kind of generic, but I feel great about it. I don't mind sharing, just maybe not on public domain. If you're really interested, we can chat.

Chan said...

I totally do. I'll tell you how that essay turned out and you can tell me your epiphany. And I said "so sad" because, well, it's sad. I mean, it's sad that you had this really close friend that you really jived with, and now things have changed, and (I might be mistaken) it sounds like you've matured and become more serious, but he has not. As much. Maybe. That's sad. And it's sad when things change irrevocably like that, even when it's a good change.

Matthew R. Hall, Esq. said...

By a chance, "Rainy Days and Mondays" by the Carpenters is playing right now. The right kind of song for a post like this.

This reminded me of my own mission and realizing that because I had changed, I shouldn't really hang out with some of my old friends anymore because if I did I'd change right back to who I used to be.

For me, the worst part about losing a close buddy is that gap and longing that is left in their absence. You experience close friendship and companionship and have another human that'll ride bikes with you at 3am and then it's gone. At least it's a taste of what finding the right person is (hopefully) like.

Britt said...

I have so much to say about these comments that I'm not sure where to start. Firstly, Chan-I'm excited to hear what you ended up with on your essay, I'm especially interested to hear a little about your dad, if you kept it in there. But Matt- I don't think I really feel that void you were talking about. It's weird trying to explain it. I mean, I dunno, what do you guys think? I miss it but at the same time there are a few things that I was missing, like a deeper intellectual stimulus and just things like that. I think I just want a hybrid man. One who will have tons of crazy fun with me but can also buckle down and be mature.

Britt said...

Oh and by the way Matt, your picture cracks me up.