To my loving mom,
Hello mom, how are you? Fine and in the best of health I pray. I’m sorry it took so long for me to write back. I haven’t really been feeling well. I’m sorry, before I move on in this letter I want to thank you for your love and support mom, really. I’m very thankful mom, I promise you. Mom, you didn’t have to send me any money or order anything. I understand your situation truly, mom. Due to the fact that things aren’t doing too good at the store I feel like I’m using you.I don’t like feeling like that because I feel like I’m hurting you. I don’t like feeling like that. I don’t want anyone to think I’m using you. So please mom, don’t send me anymore money. If I can’t get my family to help me out from time to time I feel they don’t love me the way they say they do. It’s not about the money mom, it’s about what my family is doing. I’ve been writing letters and no one is writing me back. I feel as if I’m wasting stamps sometimes. It’s not like Megan not to write, mom. It’s just not like her and that really worries me. Mom, you’re the only person I’ve heard from. Really I’m just hurt I haven’t heard from her. Receiving a letter from her gives me a feeling in my heart that warms me up. I’ll just stay positive and look forward to a letter from her soon.
Speaking of positive I’m glad you’re staying positive and taking good care of yourself mom. It’s hard to do that when you are sick and you push yourself too hard. It’s always good to think and stay positive. As for my health it’s really hard to say. I had another seizure on Saturday. I was asleep when it happened. It was around 2 AM when I came to. However I didn’t receive any medical attention until about 8:30. They have a nurse on call but the officers didn’t want to do any paperwork. These people here have a careless heart toward anyone behind these doors. This is one the reasons I’ve been writing to my mom. So I could get her to call up here and call the warden. However, I think that’s out of the question.
About my cellmate. Some are really hard to get along with. Most of the black ones I have trouble with. I’d rather be cellmates with the opposite race. My last cellmate was black and he was so disrespectful. It hurts me to think about it.
Oh, about our meeting on the hill. How does 8 PM sound? I go to sleep around 6. Just last night you and me and Megan were on a picnic. We say and talked about life and watched the sunset. It was wonderful being with my family. Next time we’re going to bring the kids, okay mom? Well, I have to go. It’s almost that time.
I love you mom, always, your son.
8 PM I’ll be waiting! Happy Valentine’s Day
(Sonni’s note: For those just tuning in for the first time, so you don’t get confused about ‘mom’, I’m not his real mother although we call each other ‘mom‘ and ‘son’. I am actually the mother of Megan and grandmother of his son Jamie. When we started writing, about a year and a half after he was incarcerated in 2006, we connected on the level of family I had met him before this happened. In the slideshow of pictures there is one of him grinning and looking at the floor. He was too shy to look in the camera. We have each helped each other go through some very difficult times. We also both knew how it felt for family to not be there when you need them the most.
Meeting on the hill is a mind game we’ve played. We pretend to ride our bikes to the top of a hill on a beautiful day to meet and talk. This young man has a heart. The oppression of prison weighs hard on him so I try to lighten his load. When any prisoner experiences the loss of family it’s hard learning to cope. Getting no support at a time he needs it the most really shakes his self worth.