Letter from a Muderous Mom

                                                                                                                                 October 21st 1997
To My Loving Children,
Peering outside my window, I observe the land our family lived off over the past 50 years. Land that has supported my children and bear the fruits of their lives. Land that has thrived, with happiness and parties, yet underlying with rotting corpses. Corpses I never imagined could remain hidden for so long. The moment has come at 70 years old to sell, to downsize and my secret to come out.
How do I explain the over the year’s bodies are buried throughout the property?
I thought of having the land excavated and cleared of the bones. Yet who will happen to do that without seeing what they are unearthing. I was 30 years old with certainly not a thought of becoming a murderer. I was soccer mom, the perfect wife, the perfect all.
It was an accident the first one, it really was, he was my best friends husband. A cruel man who didn’t deserve his life, years later I still believe it. Bad to his bones, to his core. Abusive is a kind word to describe him.  He would have given her a horrible life. You never forget your first kill. The adrenaline, the holy fuck what did I do?  The reaction stays with you. He made me kill him, I had no choice. He came over in another drunken stupor with my 1st husband to continue drinking, hackling laugher, disrespecting his wife with slurred words.  
Sitting on wooden stools in the kitchen, these drunken men chatted while shuffling playing cards. His voice crawled up my spine causing the hairs on my neck to stand.  Each snap of the playing cards shook my head. I remember I was cooking them flank steak on the stove. They were hungry!!! He came up behind me and rubbed himself along my ass while I was leaning against the stove, I pushed him away. My husband was laughing telling me to go for it.  I willingly admit I snapped. Blame it on the self defense mechanism kicking in.  I grabbed the cast iron fryer and whacked him across the face. He flew across the kitchen, bounced off the wall and laid on the tiled floor. The red blooding pooling around his head, fast, so fast it came out. I was in a dream, in a fog, this was not happening. Yet I was calm looking at him.  The fool of a husband began laughing and pointing at this friend. Looking at him thinking please don’t taunt me, leave me alone, please. I stood there and his laughter, his mocking was not a good thing for him .  Without hesitation I walked to him and with the same cast iron fryer. One hard bash to his left temple followed by the right side. His sat in the chair slumped, dead.  A few body twitching’s, finally there was silence, deafening silence. Oh lord thank you, they shut up my mind said. I took out a Lucky and lit it up. It was the longest cigarette of my life. Those two fellows fertilize my favorite red maple in the corner of the property. I feel it blooms more brilliant each year for their dirty tainted blood runs through the maples’ veins, now for 40 years.
      As for the others, the cheating husband of my daughter, who would not stop, he is under the rose garden, he was easy. I pre dug the hole, took saran and wrapped his face while in mid conversation, dragged him and pushed him in.  I am sorry Lynn, I had too. It was only three men until 5 years ago. I found the perfect man, love of my life. He satisfied me in every way, raised my children and gave us all a happy life.  At the age of 65 years and 30 years of marriage, a knock on my door came along with another wife and family all together. Oh I wish he didn’t, I liked him so.  I loved him as no other. It wasn’t a violent death for him. An accidental car crash into our oak, on the front side of the property. After 30 years invested I deserved the insurance money, retirement fund.  We gave him a respectful funeral and his other family I hushed them with money. He will always be in my head and in my heart.
So my darling children sell the property and split the money. This 70 year old murderous woman is heading on a plane to live in peace. You are all grown and successful, my grandchildren are blessed.
I will send postcards, but cannot disclose my location. I have loved you all so and proud of the mother I was. The only thing I ask is not to mention Jeff, remember him?
The grocery boy clerk from Clara’s market? I had the wooden wrap around porch redone and his body was there. I paid off the contractor, poured Lyme on his body and he is concreted in. Are there any more to be found before the home is sold? Which one of you put Jeff there?
I love you all so- Mom