Lynn's Comments: I think it's safe to say that a mother's morning starts around the crack of dawn. Aaron was always up and ready for breakfast around five a.m. My job in the graphics dept. at Standard Engravers began at eight, so I had time to get clothing organized, get lunches made and make sure the car would run before I dropped him at the daycare at 7:30. My kitchen door led into the garage where my brother lived and I tried to keep the noise down so I wouldn't disturb his sleep.
There were times, though, when I thought about him blissfully slumbering, unencumbered by household chores, bosses and babies and it really ticked me off. I had never lived on my own. I never had the luxury of falling into an unmade bed at midnight after a night on the town, then spending the weekend doing whatever I darn well pleased. Like many girls in the 60s I got married at the tender age of twenty and moved from my parents' home to an apartment where I assumed the wifely role of "caring for my man".
Now divorced with a child to care for, I imagined my brother's life to be ideal. It's funny now to talk to him about this time in his career and he remembers it differently. For him it was unsettling to be living in my garage without a steady job and something to show for his 26 years on the planet. He felt lost and lonely and wanted the stability I seemed to have. We thought we were communicating at the time, but we never said what we were really thinking.
