I'm writing this letter slow because I know you can't read fast. We don't live where we did when you left home. Your Dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen within 20 miles from your home, so we moved.
I won't be able to send you the address because the last Arkansas family that lived here took the house numbers when they moved so that they wouldn't have to change their address.
Remember that coat you wanted me to send you? Your Uncle Stanley said it would be to heavy to send in the mail with the buttons on, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets.
Three of your friends went off a bridge in a pick-up truck. Ralph was driving. He rolled down the window and swam to safety. Your other two friends were in back. They drowned because they couldn't get the tailgate down.
Uncle Ted fell in a whisky vat last week. Some men tried to pull him out, but he fought them off playfully and drowned. We had him cremated and he burned for three days.
Love,
Mom
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