My Canadian friend #2 calls me some nights, and we talk till long after bedtime. I know I can’t do it much more. I was late this morning, and I drove to the last train stop hoping to still catch the 817 bus to BYU. It left just as I was running over to the stop. Well, I was about 45 seconds away. Back to my car I went and off I drove, soon passing that bus on the road. I thought of parking at American Fork and catching the bus there, but I missed the exit. I ended up driving all the way to BYU. It was a lucky move, because we three students spent about half an hour after class planning our assigned few-minute skit for Friday. After that, I dropped off that Jake at the new student housing building, Alpine Village. Back to Salt Lake.
I lost a quarter dollar today, I think, unless it’s in my car seat. You know, losing money is like losing friends: you look for it everywhere, but after having done that, you stop worrying about it and go make some more. It’s all spilt milk. Whether I ever cry again, I’ll never torture myself again, no matter my degree of fault.
I cried on Monday when I said goodbye to my friend. It was the smallest cry, just the bare drop of a tear welling in both eyes, wanting to run down… but it was a cry still, a sincere mourning… and so I dubbed her my fifth love. But there is a time to care and labour and strive and hope and forgive… and then there’s a time to stop caring… as Mormon the prophet found out with his damned people. I felt I was securing a lifeline; but now the rope falls to the grasp of Another, if he will catch it. She was a boulder I was pushing up the steep hill of happiness, but it accumulated mass instead of wearing down. Now I step away, and may the rolling break it down manageably… else consign it to rest forever in the ravine. As far as I can now tell, Free Agency is the truest of all principles. The body lives as it will… but the soul can only live by choice.
A school day past, and I drove home in the twilight. Just a week off of my wheels and I’m already sloppy on the road. Going up I-80 to the 23rd East exit, passing Sugarhouse, I recalled my nights of delivery driving last month. Now I go to school all the time — of course it’s enjoyable, but driving home, I started to feel very grateful for those beautiful work evenings and that blest month of April when I was loosed from my cares. That month of work was surely a highlight of my life. I have a feeling there will be more.
Ah… I have the world, without a doubt. This is what life is. Thank thee, Father.