December 5, 1989
Dear Co,
Well, little brother, who knows what 1990 will bring around for us! We’re only a few weeks away from a new decade. I guess we have a lot to look forward to. I miss you.
So what was this, our fifth or sixth Thanksgiving apart? I stopped counting after the second one because it was too depressing. Ha ha. Mom did the now-normal rotisserie chicken for the two of us, candied sweet potatoes (which is one of the few really good things she makes), green beans, and donuts for dessert.
She’s really fallen apart. I mean, not in presentation—she still dresses real sharp and I can’t remember the last time I saw her without makeup on—but more in general life skills. She never cooks anymore. The microwave is king in this house! Ha ha. And I think she might be smoking! Crazy, huh? I can’t be sure. I haven’t seen her do it. But some evenings she “goes for a walk” and comes back smelling of more than just the city.
Mom, smoking. I know it’s hard to believe. I might as well have told you she was doing hard drugs or stopped reading the King James Version. Ha ha.
She doesn’t go to church anymore, so I don’t go either. Sometimes I wonder if she still believes in God. That’s a strange thing to wonder, I guess. I still believe in God even though we don’t go to church. At least I think I do. I still pray anyway, and I guess I wouldn’t bother if I didn’t still believe at least a little bit.
Okay, so I have to ask you something. Mom said that Dad told her you have a girlfriend? Come on, little brother! This is the kind of stuff I don’t want to hear from Mom through Dad! You’ve got to keep me in the loop! I demand you tell me in your next letter! Ha ha. Of course, we both know Dad’s not doing so well, so maybe there’s nothing to it. Anyway, let me know.
Gotta go. Love you.
Yours,
K