It’s been so long. Most of us who remember the citrusy nectar of Mormonade can recall the sweet feeling of euphoria that followed it’s consumption. Two years ago, the Mormon missionaries stood on that beautifully cut lawn with their beautifully fitted suits and reeled in the masses with the juice of God.

It was a free luxury given to us, reviving our sullen bodies every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Why was it given to us though, and why, similar to E.T., have our friendly terrestrial friends left us after such a short visit?

Some say they have fled the wickedness of society and with a righteous oath, have dedicated their lives to bringing down the opponent of their spiritual brother, Mitt Romney. Those people would be wrong though, Obama won the election, so obviously the missionaries didn’t care to intervene.

Others say that they have retreated back into their labs to perfect the robotic like brainwashing formula they supposedly mix in with their lemonade. Having consumed at least two cups a day  for almost a year I must say this theory does not compute. (Careful not to use the trigger word, it might activate their cognitive override) So if it’s not a call to arms, or a making of arms, then what is it?

You see Mormon missionaries, like most missionaries, are volunteers. As young as the age of 18 for boys (19 for girls) they can choose to put their lives on hold for a standard of two years (a year and a half for girls) and spread the gospel of their faith. They are young, non-alien, people. Mormonade was a service from them to us, and a way of exposing those who may be searching for something else in their lives, to Christ.

Now why, in the name of all that is good in this world, would they suffer us to go through such withdrawals? I, like many, have grown a dependency to that sweet juice like you wouldn’t believe. It’s been two years since my last dose, and as the first step or twelve to recovery I have to admit I can’t function anymore.

It’s just a sad fact of life. Everything takes time and money from someone. The money to pay for the cost of living comes from the missionaries’ own pocket. You can imagine they must budget their money pretty tightly then, after all if they weren’t missionaries they would be college students. And as hard as it is to believe, they can’t spend all their time handing out drinks, no matter how much your test score average goes up as an effect of it.

Right now they are out there somewhere, shaking hands and exchanging words. They’ve moved on from the lemonade days, but still have the same purpose. I think we can find it in our hearts to forgive them for their absence.

They aren’t completely gone though. Like any good thing that takes patience to aquire, you just have to wait. They occasionally break out the old cooler and offer us a nostalgic cup, taking us down memory lane to a simpler time when all our lives, no matter where we were back then, we’re simpler.