There is a letter. The stamp is on upside down. I recognize my mom's handwriting. The name takes up half the envelope. It is something like bad manners to open your mail before everybody gets his, so I wait while Pops distributes the squad's mail. I try to imagine my mother writing. She doesn't usually write letters to anyone, but I can see her at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee doing bills. The kitchen table has always been all hers. I can see her writing very carefully and standing up to look out the window, every so often.
Dear Gabe,
Everything is good here. It has been a beautiful fall. The road to town is as pretty as I've ever seen it, the oaks are just beginning to turn color. I pray God is watching over you. I pray every night. Granddaddy sends his love. We don't hear much
