My dear boy,
It has been some months now – months that you decided to stop. I’m not sure why, but you’ve cut the cord of communication. The thin line I’d grown to live off. Your letters – no matter the depression behind your words – brought me abundant joy and hope. I could hear your voice… simply, by reading.
I try to capture you now, by old letters, but the voice I had once heard in them is gone. I know you are no longer in the same spot today as you were when you wrote those one-page letters to your dear ma.
I had hoped, you would change your mind. Even though, the likeliness of such action was a slim chance. For I know, your stubbornness runs deep and is very unyielding. Much like your late father’s, who refused to admit a time of defeat when defeat knocked restlessly at his door. He even took his stubbornness to the grave or well, his stubbornness took him to the grave.
Alas, there is no reason to mention that. You as his son, know your father – old stories are not welcomed truth, I know.
The other day, I remembered what a handsome man you are and decided you must have a grown beard by now. A picture of such would be nice. Remember when you locked yourself in your bedroom for a day? I recall, you were going to stay there until a beard began to grow. Apparently, a boy at school had one and you wanted one as well. At the time not realizing beards don’t grow within hours. You eventually, creeped out of your bedroom when hunger took over your body.
Your appetite had always been relentless. Is it still now? You never did tell me what you eat over there. Warm or cold? Good enough to fill your bones, my darling?
I made granola chocolate chip cookies, yesterday. The house smelled lovely. By the time they were ready, I was so excited to have one. I was sure they would make me feel you nearer. But the moment I bit my first cookie – I spat it out! The thought of eating one of your favorites with you out there in the war – God only knows where! – made me feel shameful.
Needless to say, the cookies were all put in a jar and handed to one of our young lad neighbors.
I’m sure my letters are meeting you in good health. I’m sure, you are not all too pleased with my nagging. However, if I don’t write you about my little thoughts and accomplishments, I will feel as if I’ve lost you forever and that can’t be so!
All my blessings and comfort to you!
Your dear Ma