One Hundred and Twenty Three Miles North, in some place called Philo, California, is the woman who created me, the woman who I wouldn’t have existed without,
the Woman who made me into a little boy,
then a Warrior.
A woman I have only known through growing inside of her.
As I sit here trying to get my ass off of this couch and make it to the post office, I wonder
as I always have
what she is doing, today.
I guess that it’s time to quit wondering,
quit re-living the past through my older writing,
but, I must admit
it gave me the strength I needed to send this letter.