29 June 2013
My dearest, closest, deepest, bestest friend,
Today. How do I even begin to write all the feelings coursing through my body, heart, and mind? Today.
Today you got engaged. Today, your handsome, wonderful, kind, and caring Timothy asked you to be his for forever. And today, you said yes. And the angels rejoiced. And I couldn’t help but join in the party. Today. Today has been a wonderful, wonderful day.
In the midst of today, I found myself riffling through my files. My mementos. The papers and scraps and programs and cards and ticket stubs and newspaper clippings that document each year of my life for the last decade. And of course I couldn’t help but linger over 2004, where I found a little yellow card. The very first card you ever gave me.
It reads: Krista, Thank you for those scrum-diddily-umptious cookies! (I think there might be 2 left—and I have them under lock and key for tomorrow). :) Truly, I’m so glad you were able to come to dinner and it was so fun to chat with you after. We definitely need to do some fishing—so, whatever color that is in your planner, can we pencil it in one of these days? (Maybe a Monday about 7:00 p.m.) :) … Well. We can talk about that later. In the meantime—please know that even in your independent state :)–should you need any assistance, I’d be honored to receive a phone call. :) Truly—you’re darling and I hope you have the very best day!! :) Kim
That was exactly nine years (minus a week) ago that you wrote that card. How the time has flown. I’ve since become Kristafer. You’ve become Frit. We’ve survived flu seasons and Forgotten Carols seasons. We’ve managed all your office changes plus the loss of my job. We’ve gotten a house, painted the entire house, received a dozen new Church callings, and planted 7 years worth of gardens. I’m pretty sure I’ve gained 100 pounds. While you stayed 100 pounds. ;) We’ve been to San Diego, San Francisco, Hilton Head (x2), Fort Myers, Jackson Hole, Glacier Park, Arizona, Idaho, Denver, even Farmington! (by way of Park City, of course). You were 32 when we met. I was 25. Now we’re 40 and 34. You had four nieces and nephews. Now you have 11. I gained 2 brothers-in-law and 1.5 nieces and nephews. I had a breakdown. You stayed beside me.
You always stay beside me.
And, oh the oceans of memories. Think of it—there hasn’t been one day in the last 3,285 days that we haven’t seen one another. And even when one of us was out of town, or when I was home in Hilton Head for the summer. We still talked, multiple times a day. Three thousand, two hundred and eighty five days. It’s utterly impossible to put it into words.
Somehow, you weaseled your way past my “independent state” and into my color coded planner. And my life has never been the same. We laugh about me “burrowing” (I AM a snuggler after all). But I’m realizing you’re the one who taught me how to do it—because you burrowed yourself right into the center of my heart.
You have taught me what it is to be a friend. To love without condition. To serve without expectation. I know you’ll roll your eyes and wish you could skip this paragraph … but you are incredible. Truly. Incredible.
I know Tim thinks he’s lucky to have you. But honestly, he doesn’t even know the half of what he’s getting. To be loved by you, is one of the greatest blessings a human being can experience. He has an eternity of wonder ahead of him.
You know, I also found, taped to that little yellow card, a tattered index card. Another note from you in 2004. On one side was a “thank you for dinner.” On the other side was a quote: “… all of us are largely the products of the lives which touch upon our lives, and today I feel profoundly grateful for all who have touched mine. –President Gordon B. Hinckley”
Truer words were never spoken. And how could either of us have known what would ensue from those early moments of friendship building?
As I made my way through 2004 and into 2005, I found the letter you wrote me the night before my 26th birthday. I think it was right after my “thing” (whatever it was) with Bryce, and in the midst of a difficult time (gosh, when am I not having a difficult time?!). It’s three whole pages, typed, single-spaced, of pure Frit-love—the very best kind. In the first page, you detail where your life was at when we met, the difficulties you were going through, and the tears you cried as you left your family camping trip and drove back to Bountiful that “fateful” July Sunday when we very first met.
Oh, had we only known what Heavenly Father was orchestrating. Could we only have seen how he was bringing our little lives together. How He was guiding us to each other. That He was blessing us (ME) with the greatest friendship of all time.
“Friend” doesn’t even begin to describe you, my Frit. Truthfully, “best friend” doesn’t do you justice either. Nor does “sister” or “kindred spirit.” You. You are my heart. Yes, you are my heart.
And I love you beyond words. Here’s to another 3,285. And from the tips of my toes, from the depths of my swollen heart … congratulations. You found him.