Sometimes (often)he was mean. ButMamma had a bottleof SleepRite, and wouldcrush the pills, then push the powderwith a knife into a glass a wine.No one grinned as he gulped;by then, it wasn’t even a mother-daughterjoke–just quiet. We would wash dishestogether in silence, then wait until8 to laugh as he snored. We read bookswith the TV on. Then had a full eighthours.Because we did what we had to do.