Dearest Mother

Letter #1: Arrival

Dearest Mother,

After years of travel, or "a gosh damned eternity," as great uncle Jasper would say, I have arrived at our destination. It's a strange place. One I can only describe as unnecessarily complicated.

The people walk and talk faster here, many of them speaking in funny, shortened versions of words called acronyms.

Knowing me as well as you do, you can imagine both my surprise and struggles with trying to shorten any kind of words escaping my mouth and pen.

Upon arrival I was informed I had to sign up for a job. When I asked, "Only one?" thinking of those fluid days on the wagon trail and how our roles were ever-changing, the person at the counter began laughing. "Only one, if you're lucky."

I fail to see the humor, in either the ridiculousness of imagining multiple jobs, nor the inevitable boredom that would come with working only the one. Just the day before arrival, my job title ebbed and flowed between that of horse feeder and wheel maintenance specialist.

The job giver went on to tell me of some monthly cost assigned to my domicile, along with the opportunity for side hustles if need be. I'm not sure I understand how one hustling on the side is any better than one trying to hustle you head on, and I pray I don't have to find out.

We'll see what tomorrow brings. You always told me not to judge a place too quickly. A mantra I feel I've mastered, as made evident by my overcoming of uncle Jasper's odiferous aura and eventual love of his dry, albeit observant company.

I've only just arrived, and surely this land of adults and work can't be all that bad.

I hope this letter finds you well. I'll write again when this busy life finds it within itself to allow me such a respite from the non-stop hustle and bustle of this place.

Or, as the lovely lady next door quickly proclaimed last night, TTYL.

Yours truly,

John Archer