Mail to Son
Dear Son:
I'm writing this slow cause I know you can't read
fast. We don't live where we did when you left. Your Dad
read in the paper where most accidents happen within
twenty miles of the house, so we moved. This place has a
washing machine. The first day I put four shirts in it,
pulled the chain,and haven't seen them since.
It's only rained twice this week. Three days the
first time and four days the second time. The coat you
wanted me to send, your Aunt Sue said was too heavy to
mail with all those big buttons on it so we cut them off
and they're in the pockets.
We got a bill from the funeral home, said if we
didn't make the last payment on Grandma's funeral, up
she comes. Your Uncle Joe fell in the whisky vat
yesterday -- some men tried to pull him out but he
fought 'em all off and finally drowned. We cremated him
right after and he's still burning good this morning.
Three of your friends went off the bridge in a
pick-up truck, one was driving, two in the back. The
driver rolled the window down and swam out. The two in
the back couldn't get the tail-gate open so they drowned
too. Not much news this time, nothing much happens round
here, will try to write more next time.
Love, Your Mama
P.S. Was gonna send you some money but already had
this sealed up.
