But they weren’t asking for help, and I wasn’t volunteering. In 1990, my husband, our three-year-old son, and I (pregnant with our soon-to-be-born daughter) moved out of the city to the suburbs of Connecticut where there was more space, and greenery, and good public school. If doing right by our kids meant abandoning my then-78-year-old parents, so be it. The longer we were there, the more impossible schlepping into Brooklyn seemed. If they wanted to see us so damn much, let THEM make the trip!!!
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