Dear Greg,
I love you. That's the most important thing I'm going to say in this entire email, so I thought I'd say it right from the beginning. More than anything else that I might have to say to you, I want you to know that I love you.
I'm so sorry I didn't write last Monday. I made another spontaneous trip to California. I brought my computer this time, because I expected to have internet access. Then we ended up staying in a hotel that didn't have wireless. I didn't realize that hotels like that still existed in America, but apparently they do. I'm so sorry, though. I feel weird the rest of the week if I don't write you on Mondays.
I appreciated you sending me a copy of your letter to the President last week, and I'm glad to know that it doesn't scare you when you don't hear from me. I'm glad that you feel secure. I didn't know that your mission president knew about me, but I'm flattered to know that he does.
I had an interesting conversation with some from Chile last night. Her name is Lorena. She kind of attacked me, actually. She wanted to know what happened with us, and why I broke up with you. When I told her that I didn't, she started grilling me about our relationship. She wanted to know if I wrote you every week, if I actually believed that you loved me, if I really thought that you'd want to marry me someday. When I asked her where all of this was coming from, she said that there are a lot of rumors going around. Greg, is that true? I don't care what anyone else thinks about us, but I hope YOU know that I consider myself your girlfriend, that I really do love you. I hope we're on the same page about that.
I went to your house for a few hours tonight. It was really nice. I got to hold Ashtynn for awhile while she slept. Greg, that girl is gorgeous. You have the most beautiful little niece. When Anna handed her to me last night, she said, "Here, go see your Aunt Lee Lee." I almost cried. She's such an amazing little person. You'll love her.
The rest of your family is as wonderful as ever, of course. Rondee and I sat up and talked to your mom for hours after everyone else had left and gone to bed. We talked about everything under the sun, but mostly about you boys. We all told stories and reminisced. Your mom talked to us about when you were little. It was great. I love spending time with your family, and I appreciate so much the way they have embraced me. I feel so welcome with them. I love it.
I talked to my roommates yesterday, and they informed me that they are not coming for a week in December, as previously planned. Bri can't get work off, and Ana Paula has school. I'm a little bit bummed that I won't get to see them, because I love those girls a lot. But honestly, I'm so relieved that they've freed up an entire week of my time in December. No pressure, but I'd love to spend that time with you, if you're interested.
Greg, I hope that everything is going well for you. I hope that you're healthy (I saw that the scabies came back again. I'm so sorry..). I hope you're happy. I hope that you're finding success with the people there in Chile. I pray for you every day, and for everyone you will meet. I know how powerful your testimony is, and that was even before your two years as a missionary. I'm sure it's even stronger now. I know how much good you can do. I hope you know it, too, and never doubt it. The Lord is on your side. Nothing is impossible.
One more thing, Jason Busenbark can't wait to see you. I saw him yesterday at single's ward, and he is so pumped to have a friend coming home who speaks Chilean Spanish and understands the culture. He says he intends to talk to you about me in front of my face in Spanish all the time, just because he can. And you know what? I don't even mind. Jason has been aching for someone to talk to. I hope it makes you happy to know that someone else is so excited to see you again.
I love you, Greg. The most appropriate way to end is exactly the way I began. I love you very much. As a person. As my friend. As a son of God. And as the man I'd really like to spend my life with.
Ever thine.
Ever mine.
Ever ours.
LeeNichole
I found this in my email today. It's dated 11/16/09. Just 25 days before I was on the plane home from Chile. Somehow we made it through two years of hell and adversity, only to lose it all one year later.
It was real. I don't care what anyone says. It was real. It's funny that we had gone through so much, so far apart, and we hung on. Then, when we were only 6 hours apart, it all fell apart. But as I've said before:
This. Isn't. Over.
The Oilfield Romantic
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