Theresa Kellerman and her son John share a quiet moment.

The young man longs to be independent.
"I want to live on my own, away from my mom, with a roommate," John said, stretching his 4-foot-10-inch frame on the family room couch, his mom at his side.
Kellerman is all in favor of this, but she knows it won't come easily.
"I'm going to do what I can to help him reach that goal," she said. "He has fears about what's going to happen to him in the future. Maybe we can use this house for John and two or three other people who wish to live here with a live-in person.
"My main goal is that John will always have some supervision, someone watching out for him. I've set up a trust fund to pay someone to be a buddy, to come in and make sure he's had a shower or whatever. I may have to get a job to subsidize his independence."
On medication, John seems competent and in control.
But in reality, his level of functioning is low.
Around the house, John does his laundry, helps sort recyclables and does a few other chores.
His only minutes of freedom come when he takes his dog, Scarlett O'Hairy, out for a walk.
"That's the only thing he does by himself, and it's not without fear on my part," Kellerman said. "The dog is actually taking care of him."
John's favorite pastime is playing the drums. Best of all are the times when he jams with his younger brother, Chris, 16, who composes music and plays electric guitar and piano.
"Some of my friends ask how I can stand all that noise," Kellerman said. "I think it's great. It's something positive. It increases his self-esteem."
John dreams of being a rock 'n' roll star.
"He fantasizes about friendships and life and being normal," Kellerman said. "But in reality, he doesn't have any friends. No one calls him and says, 'Let's go do something.'"
John rarely thinks about his birth mother anymore. Kellerman believes the woman, who was 36 when John was born, probably died a couple years after his birth.
His father's identity is unknown.
"I have no clue who my father is," he said. "Maybe the pregnancy was an accident. Maybe they were just playing around. You do funny things when you're drunk, like get pregnant."
Kellerman frequently talks to John about the dangers of drinking.
"I think if someone handed me a drink, I would throw it against the wall," he said.
And she talks to him about the importance of using birth control.
But he dreams of having a family.
"Don't you think I'd be a great dad, Mom?" John asks.
"You'd have to take care of someone else. You have a hard time taking care of yourself," Kellerman responds.
"Yeah, but it would be neat to have a son to carry on the tradition," John replies. "Having a son means you can have man-to-man talks."
Kellerman smiles at John. But at the edge of the smile is worry.
The two have talked about the fact that John should never have children, Kellerman said.
"We've talked a lot about sterilization," Kellerman said. When he's on his medication, "he knows there's no way he could take care of a child. So he thinks maybe it's best to have a vasectomy. But we're going to wait a while before making a decision, to make sure it's the best thing."
Kellerman knows her son's limitations.
"John will never be able to totally be on his own. He will always need help the rest of his life. He will always be living under a permanent hangover."