“We love you, son, but dont come to visit us again.”
An elderly couple had spent their entire lives in a modest cottage, as weathered as they were. The thought of moving never crossed their minds.
Evenings were often spent reminiscing about happier daysof which there had been many. Their children had long since grown, building lives of their own. Their daughter, Emily, lived in the neighbouring village, visiting often with her own children, filling the house with laughter. But their son, William, had moved far awaytoo busy with work and obligations to visit in five years, often jetting off abroad with his new wife. Recently, he called to say he was coming home.
The news delighted his parents. They sprang into actionhis father pedalled off on his bicycle to fetch groceries while his mother pondered what feast to prepare. They counted the hours until his arrival. William had remarriedhis first wife had been too restless, so they divorced. No children came of it, and now he was starting fresh.
He arrived by car late in the evening, ate supper, and went straight to bed. His parents sat quietly beside him, content just to watch him sleep. The journey had worn him out.
His father whispered cheerfully,
*”Our boy will sleep well tonight, and tomorrow hell help chop firewood, muck out the shed, fetch a Christmas treewe havent put one up in years.”*
His mother added, *”And the pantry floor needs fixing before one of us falls through it.”*
His father retired, but his mother lingered, straightening the blanket, adjusting the pillow.
At dawn, his father stoked the hearth to warm the house for Williams waking. His mother baked scones. William rose near noon, declaring he hadnt slept so deeply in ages. After breakfast, he switched on the telly and lounged.
His mother asked, *”Son, could you help your father with the firewood?”*
*”Mum, Im only here a few days. Let Dad handle the sauna.”*
Silently, his parents hauled water from the well for the steam.
After lunch, his father ventured, *”The shed needs mucking out. Youre young and strongcould you manage it?”*
*”What, Dad? You think Im not tired from work in the city? I came here to rest, not labour.”*
After the sauna, William cracked open the whiskey hed brought and lamented his lifehis expensive flat, his pedigree bulldog, how women were all hopeless, how his job bored him. His parents endured until they excused themselves to bed.
William, offended, announced hed visit his sister insteadthey were too dull. His mother begged him not to drive, snatching his keys. He nearly kicked the door down before storming off to his room, blaring the television at full volume.
His parents lay awake, exhausted. His father checked on him later, found him snoring, and switched off the telly before returning to bed.
The next morning, William took a walk in the woods, returned chilled, and basked by the fire with tea, as if yesterday had never happened. His mother nursed a headache all day.
They packed him a hamper of homemade treats, which William accepted graciously.
*”So much! My wife will love theseshes never had jam like yours. Weve got everything in London, but I wouldnt dream of refusing. I forgot your gifts this time, but next visit, Ill bring something grand.”*
His mother wiped her eyes.
*”Dont come back, son. We love you, but you can nap on your own sofa, watch your own tellyfancier than ours.”*
William knew hed hurt them but couldnt find the words. He waved, climbed into his car, and drove back to the citywhere his usual chaos waited.
