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eBook Category: Romance
eBook Description: The tale of a suburban housewife and mother who tries to explain her experiences in the '60's to her teenage daughter. "Did you live in a commune? Did you have other lovers before Dad? Did you go to Woodstock?" her daughter asks. And Chris must find a way to answer.

eBook Publisher: ebooksonthe.net, Published: 2002
Fictionwise Release Date: April 2005

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [86 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [122 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [57 KB] , Portable Document Format (PDF) [508 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [63 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [104 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [125 KB] , hiebook (KML) [210 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [139 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [52 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [65 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [116 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [86 KB]
Words: 19574
Reading time: 55-78 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 9781594310041

Lacombe's Mill, CT

November, 1987

On a typical mid-winter afternoon, I am finishing the laundry when my daughter, Lacey, bounces into the kitchen, full of questions about the sixties. She plops her notebook on the table, opens it, and tells me she is doing a term paper about the "sexual revolution." I feel my face twist in a wry smile, as I reflect that if I had used the word 'sexual' in front of my own mother, she would have washed my mouth out with soap.

I fold the last towel, pour myself a cup of coffee, and sit down to talk of "Flower Children," the Beatles and the "Age of Aquarius." Her eyes are clear, bright blue, her gaze uncomplicated, as she explains, "Mrs. Holmwood wants us to use original sources, not just get facts out of books. We have to interview people who were there. Okay, Mom?"

"Sure," I answer, lighting a cigarette.

Lacey changes her chair, moving away from the smoke. "Those things are going to kill you," she tells me, nose wrinkling as she waves a hand in front of her face.

"I know." I sigh and pick at my cuticle. "I'm going to quit--but not right now."

Lacey joins in on the last bit, speaking in unison, repeating the oft-made promise. She rolls her eyes and picks up the pencil. "Your generation really had the best of it. No AIDS and you had the pill. For the first and only time in history, women were really free. It must have been a fantastic time to be young.

"There's no easy time to be young, honey," I tell her, remembering exactly how hard it had been for me.

"No," Lacy answers, her clear eyes clouding for a moment. "I guess not." And I wonder how much this interview has to do with a term paper, or how much it might have to do with her boyfriend, Scott. Not that I don't like Scott. He is a fine, honest, kind young man. But there has been an obvious strain between them lately and I am worried. Lacey is only seventeen.

Seventeen. The same age I was, that first fateful summer I left home. I close my eyes and draw on the cigarette, trying not to remember.

"Mom! Pay attention over there. I have questions."

"I nod, open my eyes, stub out the cigarette. "Shoot."

"Did you ever hear the Beatles in person?"

"No."

"Did you ever go to California."

"No."

"How about Woodstock?"

"Yes, I went to Woodstock," I answer. "I went with your father." And Janey and Michael Dove. But I don't say that part aloud.

"What was it like?"

"Rainy. Muddy. Not enough bathrooms. The food and drink concessions sold out the first day."

"Aw, Mom! It was Woodstock and you make it sound miserable."

"It was miserable. I was wet, cold, and hungry."

"What about the music?" she asks, looking disappointed.

"The music was something else!" I grin and light another cigarette, remembering Mama Cass's soaring voice and standing in the pouring rain, listening to Bob Dylan. "The music made you forget about everything else."

"You? Standing around in the rain? Staying up all night?" Lacey stares at me, her lips slightly parted, her expression telling me more than words.

"It was a time of great pleasure and great pain," I say, trying to sound profound in case she quotes me. "Being young always is," I add, seeing the clouded look come back into Lacey's eyes.

The telephone rings. "Saved by the bell," Lacey breathes, rushing to answer. Francine. Wanting to know about cheerleading practice. "Don't go away, Mom. We still have a lot to talk about." Lacey hands me the phone and rushes out of the room. I hang it up when I hear her pick up the extension, sit down at the table, sip almost-cold coffee, and remember....

Seventeen. A rock hard time for me. I reach for the cigarettes, then push the pack away, remember my first summer away from home. Ecstasy was a job as a camp counselor. The summer had started so well. How could it have ended in such pain?