A letter from a friend

So today I got a letter from a family that I haven’t seen in years, or even talked to for that matter. But they were good friends of our family when we were living in Boston while my dad went to grad school. I had sent them one of our Christmas greetings, and it looks like they got it since they responded with their own holiday greeting letter and photo.

One of their daughters is exactly 364 days younger than I am, with her birthday the day right before mine. I remember celebrating birthdays together and playing dress up and watching the Sound of Music with her in our tiny apartment complex on Vassar street in Cambridge.

It’s amazing to see the paths our lives have taken, the similarities and the differences. They are a Christian family, with all seven kids still living at home (my friend being the oldest) and a year ago they embarked on a “permanent camping” experience near San Antonio Texas, which I’m not exactly sure what that means but somehow it involves raising 80 chickens and dealing with 100-foot puddles in their driveway.

Their letter talked about what they’ve learned in the past year through all their experiences: patience, diligence, cheerfulness, gratitude, etc. I can’t help but admire them; I can tell they are leading very wholesome and productive lives close to God and are a close-knit family.

For some reason their letter got me to thinking of my semi-rural growing up experiences in Provo (of course I know Provo is a metropolis compared to Barnesville, but still). I just got to thinking about the peacock orchard on the way to my first elementary school, the horse pastures next to my second elementary school, my cousin’s farm in Spanish Fork that we used to visit all the time (lots of good stories there), the orchards of our neighbors and my best friend.

There’s something refreshing about having fields and orchards and pastures nearby. And mountains. As a matter of fact, this morning  I read Elder Perry’s talk mentioning Manti and the early settlers in Utah, and that got me thinking about Utah landscapes as well. I like the forest and suburbia that is Richmond, Virginia (because that’s really what it is–trees, houses, and dozens of shopping centers) but I also miss the mountains and quiet residential area of north provo with its fields and orchards and wagonsized streets.

So I guess what this is all saying is that the letter got me on a trip to nostalgia for old friends and places. Life is so good.