Letters from my Mom’s Boyfriends

I read her love letters from pathetic Arthur asking her about wardrobe advice, not understanding he would always be too embarrassingly unhip for Mom no matter how impressive his single-engine Cessna. I read the short, Franglais letters from Denis when he took that construction job in Algeria—erotic longing seeping through the thin airmail paper. I saw these men only as temporary extensions of Mom. They came and went as others had and were therefore not worth me getting to know. But they were important to Mom and through their words on these pages I glimpse her restless, lonely soul.

Inspired by . . . nothing, I just wanted to change the topic. Image by LambArtist.