By nine

 He rarely stayed up past nine, usually by eight he would retire to the room with the A/C window loudly humming. In the front room we would be up watching TV, where I would move from the vinyl couch to his more comfortable recliner, usually changing the channel from CNN he always watched. In the kitchen mom would be washing dishes in the single cold water faucet sink or baking a blueberry pie from what we had picked earlier in the day. A pot of hot water was always simmering for the dishes on the back burner or a bath in the four leg tub. Before daylight he would be awake in the kitchen, lighting the gas stove to take the chill off with a fat lightered stick, getting ready to pour the pancakes on the stoves built in griddle, sprinkled with blueberries naturally.