First, there's this boy, Codename: Sam. Sam is serving a 2-year mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Washington D.C., and he teaches in Spanish. He is not allowed the modern conveniences of Facebook, is allowed thirty minutes each week to email family members, and can only call home twice a year: Christmas and Mother's day. For the past twenty months, he and I have communicated solely by means of handwritten letter and the old fashioned postoffice.
Second, my birthday is soon upon us.
In one of Sam's last letters, I was told that I'd be getting my birthday present from him soon, but he wasn't specific about when it was coming. He just asked that I wait until my birthday to open it. Well, today I collected the mail and found a large, flat box with my name on it, from some indiscernible company. Curious, and not thinking, I began to open it.
First, I saw this:
I thought I read it wrong, and couldn't help myself. I tore off the packaging.
I was in shock. I turned over the sturdy, hardcover book in my hands, and found this:
A message from him on the back:
411 pages of my writing. In a hardcover book.
I'm still dying. I don't think I've ever laughed and cried when I received a present before. I was struck speechless for almost an entire half-hour, and my mom thought something was seriously wrong when I called to tell her. It's just so beautiful!
If you helped this come to fruition in any way, thank you so much!
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