Letter to Mom in Prison

Dear Mom,
     How are you? I hope you are being treated well. I know you must be feeling down. Two years is a long time. Maybe if you had apologized it would have been less. But you are who you are.
     Using a machete on the salesgirl at A.C. Moore because they ran out of magenta was a moment of rage I'm sure you regret. I think the mistake was carrying that thing in the car. I know you're a serious artist and things sometimes get under your skin. Her arm has been reattached and she's moving on with her life. I suppose a civil suit is coming. People are touchy these days about assaults with dangerous weapons.
     Thanks for sending the photo of the new tattoo on your back. Satan mounting one of the Kardashians is certainly provocative. I can't tell which one, but that's not important. I did find some of your drugs in an old jewelry box buried under the ash remains of Missy, our dear departed poodle. I was looking for something to hock in exchange for food money. I and your six other kids have been snacking on Skittles for days. Not enough protein there.
     Dad sends his regards. He's been quite kind and supportive when he's home and conscious. By the way, this hand grenade I found in the shoe closet--is it the real thing or a replica? Might be good to know.
Take Care. Miss you, Your loving son.

Walking With Mom

When my mother got older and infirm, I made it a point to walk the neighborhood with her to get her out of the house. We moved slowly, speaking of a wide range of topics as she held my arm. There was gossip, doctor discussions, memories of things and people I'd forgotten. I miss that communication, as my mom passed away ten years ago.
When I mentioned this to my friend Howard, he thought a moment, rubbing his chin. I believe I have a proposition, Joe, he said.
The more he talked, the more it made sense.
The upshot is every Sunday morning I pick him up and we drive to a park and walk around the lake, he wearing a colorful house dress, grey wig, soft slippers, and knee length coat, holding tightly onto my arm, listening to my problems and reminding me of memories of my youth, which he improvises. All for only $30 a week.
Around and around we go. Howard is such a good listener.