This is a contributed piece from a writer who submitted her work as a poem. Although the Clarion normally runs stories as editorial pieces, we decided to keep this contributed piece as it was submitted.
My name is Mariah Quick
and This I believe,
that distance makes the heart grow fonder.
As the fiancé of a man in the Army, I know distance all too well.
And I know distance goes by many names.
Miles, minutes, deployments, days.
I know what distance feels like.
I know the power of distance.
I’ve seen the destruction of distance in the lives of others.
But I’ve also seen distance create beautiful things.
When my fiancé Dakota left for basic training and AIT
With no leave between
I was scared to death, heartbroken, overwhelmed.
I would not see his face.
I would not hear his voice.
I would not feel his embrace.
For oh so long.
No, distance stood between.
I thought I would break.
July 17
I vividly remember watching him board the plane, tears streaming down my face
Holding on tightly to the broken sound of the last I love you and the lingering taste of our last kiss
I was nothing more than a broken emptiness wandering in shock
In such weakness I knew I couldn’t do it alone
I looked up to my Lord and Savior Jesus, and cried out for strength
Cried out for him to fill the emptiness, the loneliness I felt
And He did
My God is a God who always provides
Over and over again I wrote and read encouragement in the word
Phillipians 4:13
I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.
He gave me strength
He still does.
Despite the distance, Dakota and I grew stronger
Individually and relationally
The emptiness of the lack of time spent together was replaced
By time spent immersed in reading and writing letters
Encouraging each other, reminding each other of the depth of our love for one another
There’s just something about reading the writing of others that reveals a new side of a person
Something so intimate about written thought
It was an important aspect that grew us closer
Aside from an occasional short phone call on some Sunday nights,
It was our only form of communication
I knew the campus post office hours by heart
I knew when mail was picked up, and when mail was put in the campus boxes
I knew it took two business days for mail to get from Cleveland, Tenn. to Fort Leonard Wood, Miss.
I measured the distance that connected us, not that separated us.
Waiting.
Distance always implies waiting
When distance is measured in time it can seem impossible to overcome
And though I felt that sometimes
I refused to let it consume me.
I took each day one day at a time,
Reminding myself that one day passed is one day closer
One day closer to being reunited with the love of my life, my sweet Dakota
Dec. 5
The day the distance ended
The day I watched the distance close
The day I defied distance
By passing crowds of tightly packed bodies, all trying to close the distance to be reunited with their loved ones
My heart racing, I made a quick decision
I hopped dozens of rows of chairs rather than walking the aisles
My eyes were locked in on my Dakota
I couldn’t move fast enough
I couldn’t think straight
I leaped into his arms and tasted the sweetest embrace of my life
Felt the new deep bond that distance had created in us
Felt the beauty distance had created in our relationship
Once again, distance is a part of our relationship
But we share more than enough love to reach 7,400 miles across the world
365 days
Or any new distance we face in the future
And I do not, nor will I ever fear distance
My love for Dakota still grows everyday
And distance cannot hinder that
No, it only makes me appreciate it more
For I truly know and believe that,
Distance makes the heart grow fonder
Students are welcome to submit their own “This I believe” writing pieces.
The Clarion is open to other student-written opinion pieces that may have been written for a class.
If interested, submit your piece to clarion@sinclair.edu.
If submitted, we reserve the right to edit the writing piece before it is published. Students should also keep in mind that submission does not guarantee publication.