Happy Birthday, Melody!!! You’re 21 on Friday! How can that be possible. We will make a cake and eat it in your honor. Any requests? I will put $20 in your bank account and you can go out to eat for your birthday.
que pumas mother
okay, 20 dollars esta bien, but mejore me manda a package. There are things there that cannot be bought here, you know?
this is not a joke
a bag of reese’s peanut butter cups
junk food, mom. please send me junk food
this can be my last mission package, but i need copious amounts of beef jerky
i’ve had cravings alllll week
As you well know, I’m going on package strike. This week is my birthday, and I’m touched by your good will to send me money, but there are things that cannot be bought with money—well, at least they can’t be bought in Iquitos with money. You have my list of desired goods—beef jerky, Peanut Butter Cups—a complete bag, please—and copious amounts of smarties. If this sounds mildly bratty or demanding . . . well, it is a little, but I’ve been craving all these terrible things for like . . . 13 months.
So I did have transfers, but they did not boot me out of Iquitos to another part, they just kicked me about twenty minutes west, in the Zone 9 de Octubre. I always said I was destined for this zone because it’s the date that I reported in the mission. So. Cool. I have a new companion, Hna. Aliaga. We have the same time in the field, and she’s such a sweetheart. She hugs me on an unusually high rate, and this was just what I needed. I was at the breaking point of emotional stability for a while there, but now I feel like these changes have balanced me out. Seven months in one area was a bit rough, but I didn’t realize it until I was already out. Like an abusive relationship that just goes in circles.
But also tristeza because I miss the ward a lot.
I don’t know if you guys know this or not, but Richard’s sending me some cool letters about the mission life. You should ask for them, because it’s things I never knew about him. But I guess you read all his letters home. I never heard anything about his mission adventures. Are you reading my letters to the kids? I want them to hear about my disastrous adventures as well.
English is getting harder and harder to speak and think and spell. My head hurts more and more the longer I go in English, and I want to use words and phases in Spanish. I feel I can express myself better in Spanish now, and that’s a really weird sensation.
Oh! Almost forgot. Early Sunday morning my new bishop called and asked me to play the piano in sacrament. Apparently, my zone leader, who used to be my district leader, told him I played. Lies, all lies I tell you! But he said he’s been praying that someone that plays can move into the ward, and so I played, but it was terrible. At first I was like,’Okay. I’ll only use the left hand sometimes. When it’s the easy parts.’ But then. ‘Nope, nope, nope. Right hand only.’ But then. ‘Okay, top note only!.’ And I still almost died. One year out of practice hurts the quality, but not that it was that high to start with. . .
Love you all,