And it had indeed been a perfect day.
For starters, I got to sleep in. Seven o'clock. I know that's not sleeping in for most people, but for me it was beautiful. I got to skype my family first thing and they sang me happy birthday, which was cute because some of them sang Broo-ooke while some sang Brook-eee. I loved it. I couldn't believe, and still can't, that I'm twenty now. Que old! I certainly don't feel like I'm an adult yet.
After a relaxing morning, my sister, Kylie, and her husband, Josh, made me my requested breakfast--a bacon, sausage, and cheese frittata, which was absolutely delicious. Then we played banana grams, which I told them they had to let me win because it was my birthday. Well, I won. Both rounds. But it was definitely not because they let me. Josh is too competitive for that. And so am I.
At ten o'clock I ran over from my sister's place (where I had stayed the night) to Crown 7, my home away from home these last two semesters. All my stuff had already been moved out and was sitting in the front room of my sister's apartment. Still, when I told my sister I was headed over to see my roommate, Kenley, in Crown 7, I told her I was headed home and would be back for dinner.
It was strange walking into my room in Crown 7 and seeing my half of the room decorated with items not my own, but it was much better than the day before, seeing it half empty.
I waited in the kitchen while Kenley went back to grab something from her room. She came back with a small navy gift bag and set it in front of me on the countertop. I hadn't been expecting anything since she'd already told me that she was buying me ice cream later that day at her favorite ice cream shop.
"Do you want me to open it now, or with dinner?" I asked.
Of course, she wanted me to open it then. Inside was a small homemade booklet with flowers painted on the cover. I flipped open to the first page, then the second. And then I realized what it was.
I've never been great at receiving gifts. I never know quite how to respond and how to express my gratitude, but I had no trouble this time. My eyes began to water and all I could do was hug her.
Back at the beginning of the school year, in mid September, I started a habit with another girl in my apartment, Rachael. Every day I would come home and ask her a question about herself, one of those deep questions that you have to think about for a while. When Kenley moved in in January, I started doing the same with her. One night I asked her to name ten things that made her happy and five things that made her sad. She then, of course, wanted to know mine. We decided to write each other's down and do it for ten days so that by the end of it we each had 100 things that made us happy. She had taken my 100 things and compiled them into a booklet, which sweet gift I'd have to make item one hundred and one.
When I had left my sister's place she had remarked about the bad weather, but when I told Kenley it was raining, she was almost ecstatic. We both love the rain.
We were wet and happy by the time we got to campus and met my good friend Tyler to go bowling. I hesitate to admit that I love bowling just because you might be expecting me to be, well, at least decent. I bowled a strike on my first bowl, but I it was definitely luck, because my next bowl I hit a whopping zero pins. (We asked for bumbers, but our lane didn't have any. Apparently, college kids are supposed to be better than that. Oh well, we had a blast).
Our second game we decided to have a little more fun: I found out that I am better at bowling with my feet than I am with my hands and that I bowl quite well standing on one foot. We had a good time.
On our way home from bowling, after running a few errands on campus, we stopped at the candy counter and bought a small bag of lemon drops which we sucked on while we meandered down the paths that run south of campus. There's something about lemon drops and candy counters that feels so authentic and antiquated, and nothing says summer day like sucking on lemon drops as you meander down a sun-lit path. Just the day before we had walked the same path and seen a bunch of tiny, fluffy ducklings playing in the stream that runs beside it.
Today we found them at the duck pond, and we stayed to watch for them for a little while before heading home for lunch--left over sausage pizza with a sweet potato crust, and some lemon bars from last night (you can never have too much lemon in the summer time).
Then it was off to downtown Provo to look at an old, used-book shop. But first, to Wells Fargo to exchange some money for Euros for my trip to France the next day. I had Kenley exchange them for me because she's a Wells Fargo member and I'm not. Later that day when we were once again passing by Wells Fargo, Kenley turned to me and said, "You know when you pass a place that brings back good memories . . ." She had loved it: walking into the posh bank in a pencil skirt, going up to the counter and asking to exchange for some euros. It's very seldom that we really feel like independent adults (especially because most of the time we act like we're still on the playground at recess), so I guess you take what you can get.
It was a short five blocks down center street to the Pioneer Book Shop. It was the quaintest little shop so full of books that they even lined the metal stairs at the back. I went straight to the biographies. I love the idea that there are shelves and shelves filled with stories, each so unique, and all representing only a sample of them all. I could have stayed there for hours reading a compilation of memories put together by a wife and her husband in the early 1900s. I almost bought the book, just so that one day maybe I could mimic it. It looks like a fun thing to write.
Then we went upstairs to the fiction and children's sections. Kenley wandered off near the back of the store, and I stayed and looked in the juvenile area. I found The Trumpet of the Swan that I read back in fourth grade when I was learning the trumpet. I remember it was an old copy I'd read--I think we'd gotten it from a garage sale, but I'm not really sure. I found a copy of Gone and remembered one time when I went to Barnes and Nobles with my mom and couldn't afford both the books I'd wanted. When I got home, I found the book I'd wanted but couldn't afford to get sitting on my dresser. It was the second book after Gone, and with it was a note that said, "For my reader. With love, Mom." I found the shelf full of Nancy Drew books with their bright yellow spines and remembered reading the Secret of the Old Clock that I found on the shelf in my grandma's basement.
Then I found an old copy of The Cricket in Times Square and oh, that brought back memories.
"Kenley, I just might have to get this," I said.
Kenley looked confused, and rightly so. It's not something I would have picked out if it didn't have a story. Of course, all books have a story. I love finding books that have messages in the cover--messages like "I got this for you reminded me of the main character," or "I'm sorry for your loss, and I hope you find this comforting." This book contained no such message, but what it did contain was a memory.
"One of my really good friends in middle school was named Mica. I'd known her since fifth or sixth grade but then one time when we were in seventh grade and she was over my house we were talking about our past teachers and I mentioned that I had had Mrs. Gilmore in fourth grade."
"No you didn't," she said, "I had Mrs. Gilmore."
A couple minutes later found us fishing through my old school pictures until we found the right one. And there we both were in Mrs. Gilmore's fourth grade class. The only thing we could really remember doing together was a poster project. I remembered that it was about a cricket, because I remembered Mica drawing it, but I could never remember the name of the book. And there it was in an old book shop in Provo. The Cricket in Times Square. Needless to say, I bought it.
While Kenley looked some more at a collection of books by her favorite author, I found myself in the classics. Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Fin, Ender's Game. I could hear them all in my dad's voice from when he would read to us. He's so great at voices. He was the first to read me Ender's Game, and now I've read it or heard it at least seven times.
I wished my suitcases weren't already so full and heavy that bringing home another book was almost out of the question, because there were so many I wanted to buy. But maybe it's a good thing I couldn't, because I still have a few to catch up on.
From the bookstore, we walked back to the temple, forgetting that it's closed on Mondays.
We walked around the grounds and took some pictures before deciding to head back to Crown 7 and stop at Sodalicious on the way. Kenley had never been. And that was just atrocious. We decided to remedy the situation. I got butter beer and she got peach lemonade and then we sat on the couches in the nearly empty store and talked while we sipped our drinks.
Then we walked the short distance back to Crown 7 to play games until dinner at six, courtesy of my sister and brother in law. After a delicious inner of lasagna and molten lava cakes we walked back to downtown Provo to look around a little antique shop. I could probably spend the rest of this post attempting to describe to you that adorable little shop, but I’ll spare you that. I will say though that near the front of the store was a shelf of soaps with various scents, and so we played a game in which we would pick one for the other person to smell with her eyes closed and then she would have to guess which one we’d picked. That was easy enough. Then came the hard part. We each picked our three favorites and then had the other person guess which ones they were. Kenley got mine almost spot on. I, on the other hand, picked her favorite three as almost my last three picks. Kenley always seems to know more about me than I do about her, and most of the time it’s because, I’ll be honest, she’s a much better listener and she remembers everything, but this time it had nothing to do with listening or remembering, and so I was left to submit to the fact that she just knows me better. (Or got really lucky, but if that’s the case she’s lucky a lot).
Before walking back to my sister’s place where Kenley would drop me off for the night, we stopped at her favorite ice cream place: Rockwell’s. She had talked it up a lot, and still, it was better than I could have imagined. I’m not a fan of fruity ice cream, and I especially don’t care for strawberry. But their strawberries and cream ice cream was amazing! If I make it back in May on my way back from France to Georgia, I’m getting it again.
Walking back from downtown to my sister’s apartment was so peaceful and happy, even though I knew in the back of my mind that I was leaving the next morning for France. Of course, I’m way excited for our trip to France, but it also meant leaving Kenley, and I didn’t really want to think about that. So I didn’t, not until we got back to my sister’s place at least. We stood alone in the front room talking for a moment, and then we hugged and talked some more. It wasn’t really good bye—I’d see her for two short days after my trip to France on my way back to Georgia, but it felt like goodbye to me.
"I promise I won't cry when you leave," I told her. "I don't want to end the perfect day in tears."
And I kept my promise.
After she left I took out the small booklet she had made me and leafed through it, counting. Fifty-nine. That’s how many of my happy things had happened in one day.
1. Hugs
2. Night runs
3. Seeing other people happy
4. Causing other people happiness
5. Handwritten notes and letters
6. Speech variations
7. Closing my eyes
8. Realizing I have leftovers when I don't want to cook
9. When I am singing and someone joins in with me
10. When I know the words to a song that comes on in a store or on the radio
11. Orange. Just anything orange
12. When someone else writes my name and spells it right
13. The cloudy swirly pattern that milk makes when you pour it in water
14. Dressing up
15. When I am happy for no reason
16. #whenihavenoideawhyiamlaughing
17. When people turn off their phones to be with me
18. When people are conscientious of what bothers me
19. Going on night walks with a friend
20. Antique stores
21. Old books
22. When other people's bananas go bad and they let me use them for banana bread
23. Inside jokes
24. Sharing poetry
25. When I come up with really good questions
26. The picture of my dad and I that I put above my bed to cover the mark in the wall
27. Nice notes
28. When I pretend Lorrence is real (he's my stuffed dog)
29. Talking to friends
30. When promises and prophesies are fulfilled
31. When my feet are warm
32. Learning new words
33. Red and white striped awnings
34. Old barstools
35. Kenley's "Spurgeon face"
36. When I realize something I thought was hard or scary really isn't
37. When I can step back and see the bigger picture
38. When guys hold the door for me on campus
39. When I am waiting in line or in an elevator and someone starts up a nice little conversation
40. Biking to the frozen yogurt store and pestering Dallin for taking so long to eat even though I just wanted it to last forever (in this case, walking to the ice cream store with Kenley. I didn't pester her for taking a long time--in fact, she finished first. I did, though, want it to last forever)
41. When someone is making something that smells really good and they offer me some
42. When my sister and brother in law invite me for dinner
43. When I get to have time with my sister
44. When I am thirsty and already have a cup of water out and it is just the right temperature
45. Smoothie weather and smoothies (it was warm for maybe a whole half hour, and I think strawberry ice cream counts)
46. When I finish another step in completing my mission papers
47. When I don't have to go to the temple alone (so, even though the temple was closed, Kenley and I still walked there and took pictures, so that counts)
48. When I am reminded of a happy memory
49. When I find a big molasses lump in my brown sugar (actually, Kenley found me one, and it was HUGE)
50. When I am cuddled up in a blanket and am super cozy and there is nothing and no one calling me to get up
51. That I always have a choice
52. I don't know how to give this one enough weight that it doesn't sound cliche. But when you realize what you want. Like what you REALLY want. And it's attainable.
53. When I have to get up to do something and don't want to and someone offers to do it for me
54. When you're outfit is on point (I wore a pencil skirt and sneakers. It doesn't get more on point than that)
55. When I want more of somehting but don't want to be the first to get seconds, and then someone gets up and gets some and I'm like "Oh GOOD! I can get more now!"
56. Signing my middle name in cursive (it's just so loopy and pretty)
57. WhenI am the first to figure something out
58. Snuggling my stuffed animals against my chest
After finishing my count, I opened it back up to the last page (item 59 on my list), which read, “Realizing something you thought was sad is actually happy.”
One year ago today I had just finished my first year at college. It was a good experience, but it definitely had its rough spots. I had been so eager to come home that I had begun packing in February. Most of my friends had moved out or left on missions. My plans to leave for a mission that summer had been hindered, and I was left elbow-deep in the job hunt with few friends left on campus and no one to room with the coming year.
A few weeks into the job hunt I landed two wonderful jobs at the YMCA play center and Deerfield Dentistry. I also got the chance to teach swim lessons to two adorable girls. It was a busy, fun-filled summer, and by the end of it I was ready to come back to BYU for another year, but I was nervous about rooming with five random people in my first ever apartment.
I got fortunate--my roommates were wonderful, and only two days into the semester I met Rachel Schaer (aka Shan Yue), a girl with dark red hair in a bright red ninja turtles tee-shirt and dark jeans who taught me about noping, Marvel, Death Note, and Taiwan and showed me what it means to be selfless, conscientious, and spontaneous.
One day later I met Katelyn Dalton, the first chair horn player in the university orchestra. She taught me to leave people better than you found them. And that's how she left me.
Second semester brought some changes. I was getting a new roommate. I was nervous, but not so much as the first time. Her name, I learned, was Kenley Spurgeon, and my friend Kenley Blotner was convinced that her name was a good sign. She was right.
In one month I'll be officially leaving Provo, my sister, Rachel, and Kenley, which, when I think about it, is . . . sad. But it's also happy--happy in that I could not have expected nor asked for a better year, and now I have this wonderful year to look back on, and a mission to look forward to.
As Kenley and I had sat on the couches in Sodalicious, sipping our butter beer and lemonade she had asked me, "What would you change from this semester?"
Honestly, I don't think I'd change a thing. It wasn't all perfect. And it wasn't all happy. But looking back on this past year, I've realized that even what I thought was sad has, in the end, contributed to a perfectly happy year. And what a perfect day to end it with!
Candidly,
Cookie
Candidly,
Cookie
