Dear Son,
I’m writing this real slow because I know reading too fast gives you a headache.
We don’t live in the same place anymore. Your daddy read somewhere that most accidents happen close to home… so we packed up and moved 27 miles away. Just to be safe.
Don’t bother asking for the address—last folks that lived here took the mailbox with ‘em. Said they didn’t wanna memorize new numbers.
This house has one of them fancy washing machines. I put in your dad’s socks and three of your shirts, pulled the knob, and haven’t seen ‘em since. Either it’s magic or it’s hungry.
It only rained twice this week—once for four days and once for three. The chickens are learning to swim and the dog refuses to go outside without a life jacket.
About that coat you wanted—we tried to send it, but Aunt Patty said it was too heavy with them brass buttons. So we cut the buttons off and stuffed ’em in the pockets. Hopefully the post office doesn’t charge by confusion.
We got a letter from the funeral home—said if we don’t finish paying for Grandma’s burial, she might be coming back. I told ‘em we’re not prepared for visitors right now.
Your sister had a baby this morning! We’re still waiting to find out if it’s a boy, a girl, or just another mouth to feed. Either way, you might be an uncle… or an aunt? We’ll figure that out soon.
Uncle Ray fell into a cider barrel last weekend. He was fine at first, said it smelled like heaven and refused to come out. After a few hours, he went under—smiling the whole way. We cremated him. Took three whole days—guess all that moonshine finally paid off.
Oh, and your buddies—remember those two who used to ride in the back of the pickup? Well, they went off the bridge with their cousin driving. He got out okay. Rolled down the window and swam to shore. The other two couldn’t get the tailgate open. Still can’t decide if it was bad luck or just poor planning.
Not much else to report. Things are normal—meaning nothing makes sense, but we’re used to it.
If you don’t get this letter, let me know and I’ll send another.
Love,
Mama
