I’m just going to pretend that I’m not actually coming home

Mother, you know I love you to bits and pieces,

But you appear to have picked the grainiest, most awkward faces I’ve ever made in my life. I literally laughed at some of them, and I love them, but I don’t wish to scar my mission president with my past life of picture-bombing. Please try again? I’m sorry, but I’m laughing right now. Mom. Wat?

Anyways, the works going good. We have a little family that’s going to be baptized the 28 of March. They’re adorable. They already want to go to the temple. I told them I’d fly down in a year to going to their sealing, and it wasn’t even a lie.

My new companion is from Ecuador. Her name is Hermana Reyes. I like her.

A lot of things have happened this week—for example, was homeless for half a week—but I feel like it’s all sort of escaping my grasp. The less time I have the faster it’s going by and I don’t like that at all, so I’m just going to pretend that I’m not actually coming home. It could either be less painful or twice as painful, not sure which.

But tell Joy that I’m sorry no one came to her birthday party. I know how that one feels, but I totally would’ve been there I was on that side of the world. As I’m not, I just wrote a little note in my agenda saying JOY on her birthday. Oh, and my companion drew two balloons and crazy eyes. Let her know that she’s loved, and that I’ve bought trinkets for her to give her in a month.

Hey, I sent a few letters home about a month back. Did you guys ever receive those? Or did they get lost in the air?

I still eat a the pensionista’s house. Last night it was tacos—second time in 17 months—and the night before that fried banana chips with a fish hamburger. I think I’m putting back on the pounds I’d managed to get off. Ugh. Oh, well. I’ll survive.

Hna. compton

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