For 18 years, I have had my family's constant companionship. I love living with my family, and some might say that I am a homebody. To be honest, the most fun, caring, and hilarious people I have ever met just happen to be the ones that I share a last name with. I count my blessings that I grew up in such a wonderful home environment where saying good-bye is so hard.
Before my dad dropped Matthew off at the MTC (the place where missionaries learn the language and other skills before they get to their final destination), the triplets plus my dad went out to breakfast. IT WAS SO SAD! Seriously, inside I felt like I was shriveling up inside. All of my problems with school (which aren't many) seemed so childish. My brother was literally leaving for two years, and I was worried about a stats class?!
After a solemn ( and teary) breakfast, we dropped Chloë off so she could get to class, but not before I demanded one last triplet hug. Even sitting here now, I still can't fathom that I may not be able to do that again for two years. When Matthew dropped me off at my dorm, we walked all the way from the parking lot to the front door. That walk felt like it was two seconds long. I didn't cry, but I was really, really close.
Later that night, I called my dad and told him how upset I was that they made us triplets, which sounds silly now (but makes sense if you have a multiple). Just imagine losing a limb, or some object that you use every day and is important to you- and then not having it.
I am so thankful that Matthew has decided to serve a mission, and I love telling people about the crazy place where he'll serve, but at the same time I just want to be able to pick up my phone and tell him a crazy joke. I guess I'll just have to save them all up for two years.
