“Susan was haunted by the gap between the sensation of three boys climbing her torso like a tree, combing sticky fingers through her hair, muttering into her ears-and the constraint of adulthood: How are you, honey? You look a little tired. Is there anything I can do? How about a hug for your old mom? If she'd had an inkling, back then, of the ache this constraint would cause her, she would never-not once! have said, "Let go of me, boys, I just need a minute," and shaken them off. She would have held still and let them pick her clean, understanding that there would be nothing better to save herself for.”
―
Jennifer Egan,
The Candy House
