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  Beginnings 4A: Letter to Mama 
 by HannibalFan52  

 Letter to Mama by HannibalFan'52

 Summary: The title speaks for itself

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 Miriam Baracus pulled her mail out of the box in the lobby of her
apartment building, and tucked it into one of her grocery bags before
climbing the stairs to her apartment. A proud, self-reliant woman, she
politely turned down the help of her neighbor's teen-aged son, who offered
to carry her bags for her.

 Once the groceries were put away and her tea was ready, she sat at the
kitchen table to sort through the small collection of bills. A puzzled
frown crossed her handsome face when she came across a thick handwritten
envelope with no return address. Curious, she carefully opened it to
reveal a veritable metrushka doll of envelopes. Tears sprang to her eyes
when she pulled out a sheet of paper from the innermost one. 

 May 31, 1973

 Dear Mama,

 This may take a while to get to you, but I need to be careful, for your
sake as well as mine. I know it ain't easy for you, but someday I'll be
home to see you.

 So far, I'm okay. Hannibal's taking good care of me and Face. We've
managed to stay out the way of the MP's, because we're taking a roundabout
way to get where we're going. Can't tell you where just yet, but I'll let
you know just soon as I can.

 I been learning so much, Mama. Things I never thought I'd have the need
or the opportunity to learn. I rode a horse a bit ago, and Mama! it was so
much fun! And Indian-style fishing, like I showed you in that library
book. 

 Faceman got us a car a couple months ago, so we ain't hiking or hitching
rides no more. We've been real lucky, too, in finding honest jobs to pay
our way. No way are we going to become criminals for real; I'd rather go
back to jail on a trumped-up charge than disappoint you like that.

 Mama, I wish I could tell you more, but it just ain't safe yet. I won't
be able to be in touch very often, but I'll send word whenever I can. Pray
for me. Remember that I love you, and I'll always be your

 Scooter

 Hearing her son's voice echoing in her mind, Miriam Baracus read through
the letter for the tenth time, and sighed. Looking at the postmarks on the
various envelopes, she realized that it had taken a couple of weeks for it
to reach her, but she didn't mind. She was just glad that it had arrived
safely. And judging by the number of post offices it had visited, her son
must have made some good friends to have laid a false trail like that.

 A small smile curled her lips. She was blessed that her only child had
fallen in with such caring people who would help keep him safe. They'd
certainly done that during the war, and she had no doubt that they would
continue to do so.

 `Bless you, Scooter,' she whispered, `thinking `bout your mama like that.
Take care, baby. I love you, too.'

 Getting up, she placed the letter carefully in her nightstand drawer,
where she'd be sure to find it every morning and evening. 

 END

  
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