Dear Son,

I’m writing this 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. We won’t be able to send you the address, because the last family that lived here took the numbers with them for their next house so they wouldn’t have to change their address.

The new place has a washing machine. The first day I put four shirts in it and pulled the chain. We haven’t seen them since, but hope they’ll be back soon. It only rained twice this week, three days the first time and four days the second time.

Aunt Sue said that the coat you wanted me to send you would be a little too heavy to send in the mail with them heavy buttons, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets. We got a bill from the funeral home, and they said if we didn’t make the last payment on Grandma’s funeral bill, up she comes.

About your sister–she had a baby this morning. I haven’t found out yet whether it is a boy or a girl, so I don’t know if you’re an aunt or an uncle. Your uncle John fell in the whiskey vat. Some men tried to pull him out but he fought them off playfully, so he drowned. We cremated him and he burned for three days.

Three of your friends went off the bridge in a pickup. One was driving and the other two were in the back. The driver got out because he rolled down the window and swam to safety. The other two drowned. They couldn’t get the tailgate down.

Not much more news this time. Nothing much happened. If you don’t get this letter, let me know so that I can send you another one.

Lots of love, Your Mother