The back room/guest room/storage room's bookcase is filled with books from friends and dvds from my parents' house. At the bottom of the bookshelf, I see them: binders full of letters from my mission. Every letter that was ever written to me, most of the emails ever sent, are stuffed in those binders.
I pull them out. Where do I begin?
I flip page after page, letter after letter, until I realize that the words spoken at my setting apart, the words my mom had typed out for me to read, the words I am looking for, would most likely be in an envelope, and if it's in an envelope, it would be in one of the binders' pockets. So I start looking.
Flip flip... pull pull... "Not that one..."
Flip flip... pull pull... "No..."
Something catches my eye. Not an envelope. An email that has been printed.
On it says, "How is my precious girl?"
It's an email from Dad.
I can't help myself.
I sit down…