Letter From A Mother To Her Son

Dear Son, I am writing slow because I know you can't read fast. We don't live where we did when you left. Your dad read in the paper that most accidents happen within 20 miles of home, so we moved. I won't be able to send you the address, cause the last family that lived here took the house numbers with them so they would not have to change their address.

This place has a washing machine. The first day I put four shirts in it, pulled down on the handle and haven't seen them since. It rained twice this week, three days the first time and four days the second time. The coat you wanted me to send you, Aunt Sue said it would be a little too heavy to send in the mail with all them heavy buttons, so we cut them off and put them in the pocket for you.

The family is fine. Your father, he has a lovely job. He has about 500 men under him. He is cutting grass down at the cemetery. Your sister had a baby this morning. I haven't found out yet whether it's a girl or a boy so I don't know if you are an aunt or an uncle. We got a bill from the funeral home the other day. They said if we didn't make the last payment on Grandma's funeral bill, up she comes.

Three of your friends went off the bridge in a pick-up. Billy Bob was driving and Willie and Joe was in the back. Billy Bob got out, he rolled down the window and swam to safety. The other two drowned, they couldn't get the tailgate down. Your Uncle John fell in a whiskey vat. Some men tried to pull him out but he fought them off before he drowned. We cremated him and he burned for three days.

Not much more news this time. Nothin' much happened. Write more often.

Love, Mom

P.S. I was going to send you some money but the envelope was already sealed.

[ By Philip Thompson -- from Twisted Straw ]