Dear mother, father dear sisters, dear wife, babies I am not sadness dying. That pain does not kill me. The stronger is making me I am sure when I work too long if I will ever come back. You send me everything from your letters that home is new. You are spending my money I hope. Those people that here alive so long are meeting me have wonders about how I am living without you. They know your face and kind from one picture. Therefore they love you to know what I do. Are you miss me? When Mister Blue of your school will read to you of my new you will know my pleasantness and be smiling but I cry too for night and lonely like you and two babies. Tell me if that friend of your brother still sniffs in to doors. I see him when I close my eyes but with dog ears. There is so much of that is new. My boss and house. Then any man will want me working when I am cheap for my pay. If he can teach me not only English I will write our language then you hang from Mister Blue. This morning although is rain and dark sky shortly windy. I tell my hands to be the shape of lifting again one more long day tomorrow Sunday I anyway am working always. I hear you sing when in open windows I am you listen for morning. This love is my sunshine on my neck whereas I smell you. Work does not kill sadness. Long days if I love you I hear two babies and you tell me you know me and babies remember. They know their father whereas he is not with them. My thank you Mister Blue.
Copyright © December 20, 2007 David Hodges
Very Short Novels 
5 comments
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December 21, 2007 at 1:22 am
briseis
….this is one of the sweetest and most touching things (not the most, but you ought to know about that), I do believe, that you’ve ever written.
Thank you, Briseis. That’s a lovely compliment.
–David
December 21, 2007 at 5:32 am
Wizzer
David, this is brilliant on several levels. Such a sad reflection on the pain some people put themselves through to provide a better life for others, written with such feeling BUT to even attempt to write in the broken English of the narrator is incredible. More so since I can hear the accuracy of your words – I’ve heard similar from the mouths of Asians & Polish living in England and talking about their families at home.
Thank you.
Thank you, Wizzer. I’m glad you think I got the sound. I tried so hard to honor not mock their effort.
–David
December 21, 2007 at 1:45 pm
litlove
Couldn’t read the end of this for the tears in my eyes, David, so I have no sensible criticism to make. The fragile English is heart-rending. You couldn’t have written it better.
Thank you, Litlove. Sometimes mute praise is the best praise.
–David
December 21, 2007 at 5:02 pm
grantman
at first I fell all over the place in it. It has its own pace and creates such a vivid picture of a man indentured or worse yet imprisoned away from the ones he loves for money… Very impressive job… I like it. There is hope that he may one day get back, but the underlying fear; he never will.
grantman
He does hint that, yes. Thanks, grantman.
–David
December 22, 2007 at 9:39 am
whypaisley
wow… this is amazing… i work with a lot of people that send all of the money they make back home… and i have to wonder if this is not exactly what i would find, should i run one of the letters home thru babel fish…. just amazing….
Thank you, whypaisley. I think it may be accurate for many.
–David