My lucky day.

It's my favorite missionary's birthday today, and to say I was grateful for today would be the understatement of the century.

It's not everyday you meet somebody who knows every detail of your life and still loves you. Bronson is the most patient, forgiving, entertaining person I know, and I honestly don't know where I'd be without him. 

When my Grandma passed away, he kept my head above water and made sure I was okay--and let me know it was okay if I wasn't. 

When I was working late, he'd wait up and make sure I got home safe; and would drive home with me because he knows how much I hate driving at night. 

When we had finals last fall, he bring me food when I'd been in the library all day; and he even came with Jon and made sure Paige and I got up on time for our psychology final when we'd been studying all night the night before. 

When my birthday came around this year, even though it had been almost 7 months since we'd seen each other, he sent me a package of my favorite things--and on Valentine's Day he had Jon surprise me with a dozen roses, because he knows how much I love flowers. 

He knows me better than anybody else. He gets my irrational fears, supports my crazy dreams, and even laughs at my stupid jokes.

He eats the peach jelly beans, green Dots and gummy bears, and vanilla Frosty's that I hate. 

He understands what I mean when I say, "I HATE cancer." 

He stays with me when we snowboard, even though he's much better than I am and could easily leave me behind. 

He laughs at my jokes. 

He shares my disdain for BYU. 

He teaches me how to be a gracious loser--and does the same when I destroy him in bowling. 

He's completely honest with me, 100% of the time. 

He knows everything about me: he understands my worries and frustrations, acknowledges my dreams, and knows my fears. 

He never fails to tell me I'm beautiful; whether it's at 3 am during a stressful finals week, on the ski lift after a massive crash while snowboarding, in the car on a date, or while I'm in tears for some random reason. 

He's patient with me--more so than just about anyone I know--even when I won't decide where we should go for dinner, whose car we're taking, what movie to watch, or who to hang out with, he's patient and eventually makes most of the decisions. 

He keeps me focused and motivated.

He always knows what to say. Even though he's 1,500 miles away and I only hear from him twice a week--Friday's letters are always full of exactly what I need to hear, and Monday morning emails never fail to make me smile. 

He's the reason I love hockey, go to Aggie basketball games, and can tolerate driving. 

He makes me laugh harder than anyone else, smile when I'd rather cry, and can drive me crazy in a matter of seconds. 

He's the patient one when I'm stressed, the forgiving one when I'm judgmental, and the grounded one when I'm day dreaming and unfocused. 

He keeps me sane, motivated, and constantly surprised. 

Some days, I miss him so much it hurts...and I'm not ashamed to admit that I'll drive the neighborhoods of Logan by myself, listening to Rascal Flatts and talking out loud trying to figure out what he'd say in the present situation. 

Long story short, he's my very best friend. And even though I miss him like crazy, I know he's exactly where he's supposed to be. Michigan sure is a lucky place. 

He's been gone almost a whole year, and that means in just over a year, he'll be home. And everything will be okay again. 

Happy Birthday, Elder!