In the ironic world that is my life I found myself superimposed in a comedy. While sitting on the couch watching the Denver Broncos get trampled by defending super bowl champs Pittsburgh Steelers I embarrassedly cheered for orange and blue. Love the CO.
My new roommate Cameron mentioned she had a younger brother serving a mission in the Philippines. Hmmm. My youngest brother Daniel just got back from the Philippines. Which mission I casually threw out? San Pablo she replied and I defiantly shook my head thinking I'd remember if that had been Daniel's mission.
UH. Turns out you only remember such things if you pay attention, like she did to her brother, because when I said that my brother's name was Daniel Hall I thought she was going to shoot out of her seat and bump her head on the ceiling.
"You're last name's Hall? Daniel Hall?! He's one of my brother's favorite missionaries!"
Oh. Right. San Pablo. Mission. Brother. Nope, still wouldn't have known. All this excitement led Daniel to research and find something horrifying, evidence of his neglectful sister—he's been referenced twice on this blog in two years, and neither were for his birthday. That's probably a lie but I can't remember what he told me. Maybe this is his debut.
The signs were there. My 'weekly' emails occurred once a month, if that, and those last few months involved Daniel emailing me in Tagalog so I'd have to email him back for a translation. Damn my curiosity.
Not even the promise of pink pearls could urge me to write to him to remind him to find me some.
So here's to Daniel, lost no more, living just 45 minutes away and loved even if he forgot my wedding cake in Colorado.