Old Letters

Last night when I wasn't tired I started to go through my drawers and clean some things out. Old school papers, folders, and notes were thrown away. I have a big stack of letters from missionary friends, but then I came across two letters I'd held on to for when I moved out or something... They were from my mom. On a couple of occasions my Young Women's leaders had asked my parents to write letters for us to read while we were up at girl's camp. Of course my dad had no idea there was such an assignment, it was always my mom who did the writing.
So last night I came across these letters. I read one and did okay, I remember getting this one and sitting on a rock outside my cabin at camp I don't know how long ago... I only teared up throughout the whole time. The second letter was more descriptive, more advice was in there. I was bawling my eyes out as I read. I had to take a few moments to calm down between some sentences because it got so bad I couldn't read anymore. I missed my mom. I missed her voice. I missed her calming advice. When I finished I remembered keeping one last letter from my senior year in high school. I looked and looked until I found it beneath all my efy stuff from the past few years. I read this one with the same effect as the last.
I sat there for a few minutes, reflecting, wishing I could thank her for those words, and then wishing I could ask her for advice on my life right now. I have so many big decisions ahead of me that I wish I'd thought to ask for advice before she passed away. I'd like to know her opinion on me transferring schools next fall, leaving my 13 year old brother and Dad here alone. I feel bad for even considering the thought, but I just need to get out of here! I need to get out and live a life that's more exciting than school and work. I've taken on a lot of responsibility around the house that I've learned a lot from, and feel bad leaving behind, but feel like I could finally live on my own, like I'm finally have enough self-reliance. I want to know what my mom would think of the idea. My dad doesn't tell me anything. He's shocked that I'm finally doing something to move on in life, but that's all I know. I don't know if he minds me leaving, if he'd rather I stay home, or what. He's a book, sealed with a lock that there's only one key to, and that key is hidden away where only he knows where it is.