Something has happened. My last mission buddy came home. What am I supposed to do on Sundays anymore? I don't have one of them to write? I feel slightly empty inside. There are no young missionaries still in the New Mexico Farmington Mission, who have met and served with me. None.
This is a sign that life moves on. And it keeps going forward. I can choose to move, or I can choose to dwell, and wish for days long gone.
I choose to move forward. To remember with fondness, but I have a new purpose.
I have new people to teach.
And they need me.
I like that they need me.
I can move forward. I can.
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