Coming home from school that dark winter day so long ago, I was filled with excitement of having the weekend off. But I was   1  into stillness by what I saw. Mother was seated at the far end of the sofa,   2 , with the second-hand green typewriter on the table. She told me that she couldn’t type fast and then she was out of work. My shock and embarrassment at finding mother in tears was a perfect proof of how   3  I understood the pressures on her. Sitting beside her on the sofa,