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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Frankfurt, Michigan

Okay, I found internet access. Couldn’t go three days without a latte and internet access. I feel like such a city mouse this weekend. There are no locks on the doors and I don’t have a private bathroom. It is a wonderful setting for what promises to be a beautiful setting.

Last night was very hard, though. The guys took Ryan out for a bachelor party and I wasn’t invited. I tried to excuse myself in order not to be seen crying, but instead wound up walking my everyone with my eyes read and my nose snotty. Then I went to bed and dreamt that I was at the funeral of my best friend and no one would let me give a eulogy. I guess that sums up how I feel pretty good.

I will grow up and grow put of this, but it feels like a death. While we will remain in each other’s lives forever, the 2AM calls have ended, the bookstore browsing, driving back to Millikin, and checking in. This morning my eyes were almost swollen shut from crying and campfire smoke.

Ryan apologized when he saw me, he realized I should have been invited. I told him that it had hurt a lot, but that I understood–it was a guy thing and I have the stigma of being the girl he’s friends with. Instead of hanging out with the wives and girlfriends, I went to my room and read Genesis from the Giddeon Bible that was in the room.


Tonight will be better, the wedding, the dinner, the toast, another bonfire.

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