**Diary Entry**
*10th December*
We love you, son, but please dont visit us again.
An elderly couple spent their entire lives in a little cottage in the countryside, as weathered as they were. Theyd never dream of leaving.
Evenings were spent reminiscingplenty of happy memories to go round. Their children had long grown up, started families of their own. Their daughter lives just a village over, so she visits often, and the grandchildren keep things lively. But their son, Edward, hadnt been home in five yearstoo caught up in work, holidays abroad with his new wife. So when he rang to say he was coming, his parents were over the moon.
They set to work at once. His father cycled into town for groceries while his mother planned meals, determined to spoil their boy. They counted the days. Edward had remarried; his first wife was always off travelling, so they split. No children. Now he was building a new life.
Edward arrived late, ate supper, and went straight to bed. His parents sat quietly beside him, just watchingthey hardly spoke. The journey had worn him out.
His father whispered cheerfully, Hell sleep well tonight. Tomorrow, he can help chop firewood, muck out the shed, fetch a Christmas treeweve not put one up in years.
His mother added, And the pantry floor needs fixing before one of us falls through.
His father turned in, but his mother lingeredadjusting the blanket, fluffing the pillow.
At dawn, his father lit the stove to warm the house. His mother baked scones. Edward didnt rise till noon, stretching and declaring hed not slept so soundly in ages. After breakfast, he switched on the telly and settled in.
His mother ventured, Son, could you help your father with the wood?
Mum, Im only here a few days. Let Dad sort the sauna.
Without a word, his parents hauled water from the well for the sauna themselves.
At lunch, his father tried again. The shed needs mucking out. Youre younggo on, give us a hand.
Edward scoffed. Honestly, Dad, dyou think Im not knackered from work in the city? I came to rest, not labour.
After the sauna, Edward cracked open a bottle of whisky and moaned about his lothis expensive flat, his pedigree dog, how all women were hopeless, how work was dull. His parents endured it until they couldnt, then slipped off to bed.
Edward sulked. Ill go to my sistersyoure boring. His mother panicked, hid his car keys. He nearly kicked the door down before storming off to bed, blasting the telly. His parents lay awake, exhausted. His father finally crept in, found him snoring, and switched it off.
Next morning, Edward took a walk in the woods, came back chilled, and basked by the fire with tea, as if nothing had happened. His mother nursed a headache all day.
When they packed him a hamper of homemade treats, Edward didnt refuse. Bit much, but my wife will love it. Weve got all this in London, but Ill take itdont want to offend. Forgot your gifts, though. Next time.
His mother wiped her eyes. Dont come again, son. We love you, but you can lounge at home. Your tellys better anyway.
Edward knew hed hurt them but didnt know what to say. He waved, drove off, back to the bustle of London.
**Lesson:** Some wounds arent from absence, but from presence.
