A Note from the Blogger: I am Kristan Saucedo, I am a Pentecost. My specific denomination is Assemblies of God. However, my best friend, Natalie is a Mormon. As of April 20th, she is a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Seattle, Washington. Now that I have made that clear. This blog series will be a collection of thoughts that I have while she is away from me for a year and a half. None of the things that are said in this blog series reflect the views or beliefs of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints or Natalie herself. It’s just mine, Kristan Saucedo. A Pentecost, a psychology nerd, a student, a daughter, a sister, and a Missionary’s Best Friend.
PSA: WE HAVE OFFICIALLY MADE IT ONE MONTH APART AS OF THIS WEEK! SEVENTEEN MORE TO GO!! WE CAN DO THIS!
We now return you to your previously scheduled blog.
When I was a kid, my mom always had us writing notes and letters. It was common to have one of us sitting at the dinner table either writing a thank you note or an apology letter. Heck, I even had a best friend journal-diary for six years, and have had a blog for about that long, as well. It’s kind of a skill that I developed over time and never had a really appreciation for it until now. Because before I never had use for it, ya know?
Before Nat left for Seattle, I wrote Natalie a lot of letters. Thirty letters to be exact. There were a range of topics, one for her 20th birthday, one for when she just can’t handle people, one for New Year’s, one for when she wants to hear my puns, one for when she need some Disney, and even one for when she meets “the one.” No, not all of the events will take place. But the commitment I made to her when we became best friends was that I’d be there for her no matter what. Come hail or high water you bet your last dime, I’ll make a way to be there for my girl. Those letters are my way of having me with her even when I can’t physically be there for her.
Writing to her is vital to keeping our friendship alive, if I stop writing her, we stop talking, if we stop talking, she’ll forget about me, if she forgets me, our friendship is dead. I can’t have her forget about me, our friendship can’t die. This can’t be it. I write and write and write, and even when I’m not writing I’m writing. Some type of communication makes this unusual friendship a little more usual, a little more normal.
There’s been so much going on, a lot of really personal stuff. It sucks not being able to escape with her and just vent about it all. It sucks feeling alone. I miss our country driving. I miss jamming out in her car til we forget all our problems. I miss crying with her. I miss her. It’s the hard days that make missing her that much harder.
It’s been one month. Twenty-eight days. It feels weird. I mean it feels like it’s been forever, but yet only one day in the same breath. I know that doesn’t make sense but it is like even though it has been a long time since I’ve seen her face, and boy has it been long. At the same time, it doesn’t feel like a long time at all. It feels like it’s only been two hot minutes. I guess that’s a good thing, right? I just have to make it through 34 more hot minutes (17 [months left]*2 [hot minutes!])
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I’ll have to work on my channeling of The Little Tank Engine that Could.
Whatever happens, I’ll trust in Him and continue to say it is well with my soul.
Whatever it may be, I will trust in Him. He’s got it, and I know that Nat thinks so too.