Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

Since I was a little girl, I fell in love with stationary stores in Japan. Pens that encompassed the color spectrum, shiny paper sets for weddings or New Years, and journals of all shapes and sizes. I was a fan; gimme 'um all! That's when the hoarding began. I had a total of two elementary friends who had moved away, who I was determined to keep as snail mail buddies forever, until Pokemon came on. But with Big Country thousands of miles away [I'm not entirely sure but it sounds good right?] it gave me a reason to dig into my collection and renew it with purpose.

For those that don't know, sending parcels during basic training is against the rules. The point is to harden everyone, and give them the bare minimum to accustom themselves to the harsh realities of military life, or at least that's what Big Country's mom told me. My grandiose plans of baked goods, and photos of us were gone. Though my letters were plain, I did my best to keep them upbeat and ever onward, and his mom was gracious enough to invite me over on Saturdays when I wasn't bogged down with homework.

Knowing that our relationship had officially leveled up, I knew my addiction to stationary could become more involved. That summer's trip to Japan meant stocking up on all types of letter sets with random Engrish [IE. Poor English grammar but written by Japanese companies, and more often than not having absolutely no clear meaning, like "Stone Crop" on a t-shirt with a sunbeam.], cute animals, or subtle muted tones for the sophisticated adults we were becoming. Each letter was a daily summary of my college life, or my family's daily Japan excursion for the day. At the end of each one was a romantic line or two from a love song [I found one for all 90 days. See Stationary Addict above.], a lipstick kiss, followed by a blitz of my citrus perfume. Smell is the strongest memory, but goddammit, if I couldn't send cookies, the least I could do was remind him of me. [Let it be known that if future lovers would like to send me mail from a foreign country, I am TOTALLY ok with it.]

Finally after 3 whole months of letters every day, Big Country's mom and I flew up to Chicago to watch him graduate from basic training. It was my first flight alone with someone other than my family, and my first time to Illinois. I was elated, and I'm fairly certain that I was talking nonstop. Having been a seasoned daughter from a navy family, his mom told me that he would likely get liberty, or time off this weekend, so we'd have plenty of time to spend with him before he ships off for A School training on Monday.

She was wrong. Pictures were taken, lots of kisses were had, and the bomb dropped. Big Country would be shipping out later that evening. I was struggling to contain all my feelings, "But your mom said we would have all weekend. Can't you just go on Sunday after we leave? I can't believe we only have 6 hours before you're gone again." I was, as they say, a hot mess. Hiccuping from the overload of tears, he held me, and explained that the navy owned him now, and there were no exceptions. Thankfully, the beauty of Illinois being the site for the navy's boot camp meant we were allowed to wait with him at the gate until boarding. His mom got a few words in, but mostly the verbal diarrhea between us was strong. He'd give me insights into how he was able to maintain his weight by shoveling in cottage cheese, while I gave him the funniest stories from my trip to Japan.

Big Country's mom and I spent all of Saturday exploring parts of Chicago, before calling it an early night before our wickedly early flight back in the morning. And just like that, Big Country and I, merely a year and change into our relationship, became long distance.