from The Arrivals by Meg Mitchell Moore
"Why are you taking it so personally?"
She thought about that. Then she took a deep breath and touched her hair. She didn't look directly at William when she answered, because she thought that if she did she might begin to cry.
"Because they're my life's work."
He remained silent, watching her, listening.
"If they're not happy--if they're not capable of living on their own, and being happy--it means I've failed. I should take it personally."
"Oh, Ginny," He reached across the table and laid his hand on her cheek. She pressed it in closer.
"This is it," she said. "I'm sixty-three years old. This is what I've done with my life. They're my masterpiece, and they're broken."