A Parent’s Heart: A Story Thank You for Your Support, Likes, Kindness, Feedback on My Stories, Subscriptions, and a Huge Thanks from Me and My Five Lovely Cats for All Your Generous Donations. Please Share Your Favourite Stories on Social Media—It’s Always a Joy for the Author! “Why are you looking so glum this morning? Not even a smile. Come on, let’s have breakfast.” Her husband walked into the kitchen with a sleepy stretch—finally, a Sunday morning. The bacon and eggs were sizzling on the hob, while his wife poured tea. She plonked more than half the eggs onto his plate and handed him some bread— “Eat up, go on!” “What did I do wrong, Natasha?” Arkady asked gently. “We both did wrong, raising the kids like we did,” Natasha replied, sitting down beside him but barely touching her own food. “Our daughter and son are grown now. We gave up so much as we raised them—those times were tough. We always supported them, but who supports us, even with just a kind word? They’ve always got problems, always bored or short of money. Both Sveta and Dima, always moaning.” “What makes you say that?” Arkady had just finished his eggs, happily buttering fresh bread and spooning on some jam. “It’s different for you—they come to me with it all, you know, their mum. Dima wanted to go bowling with his family yesterday and wanted an advance until payday. I got cross and didn’t give it to him. Oh, he was so put out. And Sveta called just before—her singing career’s going nowhere, so she’s in a mood too. She loves singing—great, sing for your soul, but you’ve got to work as well! She wants to make a living out of it, but it’s not happening. Not everyone can do that, and it’s time she realised. She needs a proper job! Even as children they were close, now they barely speak to each other!” Natasha pushed away her now-cold eggs and sipped her tea. “Don’t get so upset, love, it’ll work out. We were young once, remember?” Arkady tried to comfort her, but she only grew more agitated. “Oh, Arkasha, you remember! We lived within our means and found joy in the little things! When Dima was born—it was pure happiness. My friend gave me a pram and cot, my sister handed down vests, nappies, onesies from her eldest—hand-me-downs but good as new because kids grow so fast. We were happy! And when we bought our little Fiat, we felt on top of the world. Built a little shed next to the house, it made us feel rich! But for our lot, if they haven’t been abroad, life’s not worth living—what is that? We never taught them that!” “These are different times, Natasha, there are so many temptations. They’re young. Wait—they’ll understand one day.” “Let’s hope it’s not too late by then. Chasing riches and life’s flying by. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder, is that really me—a grandmother now? And you, you’re a granddad…” They were interrupted by the phone—it was their son, Dima. “Well, here we go again,” Natasha said, picking up the phone. As she listened, her eyes grew wide and she jumped up. “Arkady, get dressed quick—Dima’s in hospital! His neighbour from the ward called.” “What happened?” Arkady was on his feet, rapidly pulling on his clothes. “I’m not sure exactly. He cut his hand with an angle grinder—blade shattered and sliced it. They’re trying to save the hand. Hopefully everything will be all right. Oh, please let it be all right! Come on, let’s go.” They threw on their coats—a bit older now but far from old, two deeply worried parents—and set off, thoughts of everything else forgotten, hurrying to the hospital to see their son… On the way, Svetlana called: “Mum, can I pop round at lunchtime?” “Of course, love, we’ll probably be back by then,” Natasha called, breathless, racing to the bus stop after Arkady. At the hospital, they were quickly reassured—Dima’s hand had been saved, though they couldn’t see him just yet. “I’m not leaving until I see him,” Natasha said firmly, parking herself in the waiting area, with Arkady by her side. Suddenly Svetlana burst into the hospital, dashing over to them. “Mum, why do you look so worried? It’s fine now. Dima was doing a repair job yesterday—something wouldn’t come off, so he was cutting bolts, slipped and sliced his hand. He’s conscious, stitches done, fingers moving. Mum, don’t look so grim, he’ll be okay!” “How do you know?” Natasha managed. “We’re always in touch, Mum—me, Dima, and his wife Lena too. We help each other out, what’s the problem?” “But—we thought you barely spoke to each other, you never told us…” Arkady explained. “Dad, you two are so strong, so sorted, like nothing ever fazes you. We don’t want to worry you unnecessarily,” Sveta smiled. “Honestly, you both look so young! We just want you to enjoy life for yourselves now.” “Well that’s a twist—I thought you didn’t care about us anymore,” Natasha smiled back. “Oh Mum, your generation, you’re all so resilient. We try to be like you, we really do, Dad. We’re just not always as good at it, but we try, you know?” Finally, the nurse let them see Dima for a minute. Natasha nearly broke down, but Dima was calm. “Mum, it’s all over now, honestly, don’t worry. Dad, remember when you got stung in the garage and nearly died in hospital? Life happens! When I’m out, come over for New Year’s, we haven’t all got together in ages. Sveta wants to introduce everyone to her boyfriend too—she hasn’t told you yet?” Natasha and Arkady walked home, deciding to enjoy the fresh air. Not Old—But Not Young Either: Parents on the Road Ah, a parent’s heart—it always aches for their children. You look at other people’s children and wish yours could be better, live more rightly, listen to you more. But our children have their own path, whatever it may be… And they’re good kids—after all, they’re ours.

A Parents Heart. Diary Entry

Thank you for your supportwhether its a like, a nice comment, or a subscriptionit all means so much to me and my five dear cats. A special thank you to everyone whos sent a donation; its truly appreciated by both me and my little furry gang. Please do share any stories you enjoy with friends on social mediaits always a lovely boost for an author!

Saturday at lasta lie-in for David, who ambled into the kitchen with his hair tousled and stretched, barely awake.

The bacon and eggs were sizzling away on the hob, the kettle was just off the boil, and I was pouring out the tea. I plopped most of the eggs on his plate with a good chunk of bread. Tuck in, love, I said, offering him a fork.

Is something up, Emily? Youre awfully quiet this morning, David asked gently as he buttered a slice of bread, piling strawberry jam on top.

Oh, its what weve both done, really, I replied, lacking any appetite. We didnt bring up our children the right way, did we?

Our daughter, Daisy, and son, George, theyre grown now. We gave up so much raising them through tough years. We supported them endlessly, but who supports us now? Not even with a kind word. Its always something with them: lifes too dull, or theres not enough money to get by. Daisy and George both, always something to moan about.

Wheres all this coming from? David asked, tucking happily into his breakfast.

Its because they always come to me, I said, sipping my tea. Yesterday George wanted cash before payday to go ten-pin bowling with his family. I put my foot down and refused. He sulked. Just before that, Daisy calledsinging isnt going well, so shes in a foul mood. Of course, I sympathise, but you cant expect music to pay the bills forever. She needs to get a proper job! And look at thembest friends in childhood, now barely speak a word to each other.

I pushed aside my now-cold bacon and eggs, drawing the mug of tea to me.

Oh, Em, dont fret. Itll work itself out. We were young once too, David said, trying to reassure me, but it set me off even more.

It was different for us! We lived within our means and appreciated what we had, I reminded him. When George was bornwhat a joy. Pram and cot from my friend, hand-me-downs from my sister for vests, blankets, tiny trousersall barely worn. Children grow fast! We didnt mind second-hand then, we felt lucky. And the day we finally bought a little car, a Ford Escortwe were so proud! We parked it behind the flats and felt on top of the world. To our lot, if you havent been abroad each year, youve failed at life. How did we end up here? We never taught them that.

These are different times, Em. So many temptations now. Give it time, theyll understand, David said, quietly.

I hope they dont realise too late. Chasing riches, missing life as it passes. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think, how am I someones grandma? And you, Davidyoure a grandad now!

Our thoughts were cut short by my mobile ringingGeorges neighbour at the hospital was on the line.

Oh, not again, I muttered, but my heart sank as I listened. David, get dressed quicklyGeorge is in A&E. His neighbour just called.

Whats happened? David leapt up, worry etched on his face.

Im not sure, something with a sawhes sliced his hand. Theyre trying to save it, just hoping for the best now. He might lose his hand! We have to get there.

In a panic, we threw on our coatsno longer young, but still sprightly enough when our children needed us.

On the way, Daisy rang. Mum, can I pop over for lunch?

Come by, love. Well probably be back by then! I puffed, rushing after David to the bus stop, not waiting for her reply.

At the hospital, the nurse reassured us. His hand was saved. But we couldnt see him straight away.

Ill wait here until you let me in, I insisted, parking myself in the cold waiting area with David beside me.

Suddenly, Daisy came dashing through the ward doors, flinging her arms around me.

Mum, Dad, why do you look so worried? Its all sortedGeorge was doing a bit of work on the side, fixing a car for someone. Something was stuck, so he tried to cut through the boltsslipped, sliced his hand. Hes back with us now, stitches done, fingers movinghonest, you look dreadful! Hell be okay.

But how did you know? I asked, dumbstruck.

George and I message all the time. I chat with his wife, Layla, too! We support each other, you know.

We thought you two barely spoke! Why didnt you ever tell us? David asked, a bit bewildered.

Oh, Dad, you and Mum are so strong, youve always managed on your own. We didnt want to add to your worries, Daisy grinned. Besides, you both look younger than ever. Honestly, we try to let you enjoy life now, live for yourselves a bit.

I found myself smiling, relief flooding in.

Oh, Mum, I wanted to tell you Ive landed a job! And I still get to sing, they invite me to all sorts nownurseries, care homesthe residents clapped me yesterday! One of the ladies even cried; her daughters a famous singer, always travelling, barely visits broke my heart.

Suddenly she flung her arms around me and David. We do love you both so much, please know that.

A nurse appearedfinally, we could see George. My heart nearly gave out, but he greeted us calmly:

Mum, Im fine now. The worst is over. Stop worrying! Dad, remember when wasps built a nest in our old garage? You got stung and ended up in hospitalanything can happen. When Im out, you must all come over for New Years. We hardly see each other! Daisys planning to introduce us to her new bloke tooshe hasnt had a chance to mention it.

On the walk home, David and I decided to stroll instead of rushing straight back.

We are parentsnot young, but not too old yet.

Oh, this parental heart. Its impossible not to worry for your children. You imagine everyone elses children must be easier, and all youve ever wanted is for your own to have the besta better life, to listen, and understand.

But in the end, they have their own path to follow, however it winds. And after all, our children are lovely. Theyre ours.