The Letter

Mother,

I know I haven't written to you in a while, but this time I feel it's urgent. We've been captured by the Mexicans and caged within a small community called "Guajira."

Aside from our weapons they've allowed us one personal item from our packs. Most men tried smuggling a concealed weapon, but were instantly spotted and brutally murdered.

There were fifteen of us in the beginning. It has dwindled down to six...scratch that, five now.

I saved my leather bound journal you got me right before I shipped out to which I am writing in right now.

Maybe it's naive of me to write such personal thoughts addressed to you, in hopes it will reach you, but if there is a God I'm hoping he will deliver my last words to you.

I haven't eaten in four days and hardly have the strength to hold this pen up.

The water is polluted and made many men sick.

The only thing keeping me alive are my thoughts.

I had a dream last night, which I gather was a memory.

I was in one of those baby chairs that roam around the house. I followed you into the bedroom and watched as you put your makeup on at your vanity.

You noticed me watching and couldn't help but pick me up from the chair and kiss me on the cheek. With googly eyes, I smiled and laughed the cutest baby laugh you would ever imagine before you told me you loved me.

I can still smell the perfume you sprayed before you kissed me once more, leaving waxy red lip stains on my cheek.

I want you to know that I will miss you, and everything I've done over the years has always been for you.

The Mexicans are looking shifty. I better hide my thoughts before they decide to take them away.

Remember, whenever a tear shall form, I will be there within a--

R.I.P.

1982-2011