Dear Mama,
It's Friday night. It's 9 p.m. now and Ralph is already at work, Mama. He left at 8 p.m. earlier. Edgar is in his room, and Angel is working on something on the dining table. There's live singers right now at the grill beside us, Mama. But the noise is tolerable. I mean, I'm telling myself it's tolerable, Mama.
I really don't know what to say here, Mama. After Ralph's birthday and my gig last Sunday, there's really nothing much happening. Nothing to look forward to, either.
I guess, I just wanted to say hi. Hi, Mama. I wish you were here, or I was there with you.
I miss you, Mama.
I love you.
Daddy
