Sometimes I think about this girl I met in Nepal while we lived there. She was the niece of one of the members in our small branch I think. A couple of Sundays she came to church with them. She was my age, my height- we were the same except I was a Caucasian American and she was Nepali. We were instant friends(how is that always the case when you're young?) and we wrote letters for a little while. I remember I would receive her letters on notebook paper with her neat cursive that was like all other Nepali's. (It's interesting to notice handwriting, especially cursive and how different countries teach it. By looking at the style of cursive you can often tell which country or at least what part of the world they are from.) It was written in pencil. It was exciting to be her pen pal. But after we moved away from Nepal I can't remember writing her.

I really don't even remember her face, it's blurry in my mind. I know she had short black hair, just like I had short brown hair. But her big eyes and face are gone from my mind. I'll sporadically think back to her and wonder what her life is like. I wonder if she's still in Nepal, if the political unrest has upset her life. I wonder how much education she's been able to receive and if she went abroad for any of it. I wonder if she's married or if she has a boyfriend. I wonder if she's ever learned more about the gospel.

I wonder if she's happy.