From Richard Ford’s “Independence Day” when the protagonist thinks his son is suffering but feels unable to help:
“The worst part of being a parent is my fate, then: being an adult. Not owning the right language; not dreading the same dreads and contingencies and missed chances; the fate of knowing much yet having to stand like a lamppost with its lamp lit, hoping my child will see the glow and venture closer for the illumination and the warmth it mutely offers.”
