**Diary Entry**
“Who are you here for?” Margaret Wilson stepped onto the porch with Nicholas beside her, eyeing the unexpected visitor. “Im here for Margaret Wilson! Im her granddaughterwell, great-granddaughter, actually. Im the daughter of Alexander, her eldest son.”
Margaret sat on the sunlit bench, soaking in the first warm days of spring. At last, the season had arrived. Only God knew how she had endured the long winter.
“One more winter like that, and I wouldnt have made it,” she thought, exhaling in relief. She wasnt afraid of death anymorein fact, she had been waiting for it. Her savings were set aside, her burial clothes bought. Nothing tied her to this world now.
***
Once, shed had a large familya husband, Frederick Wilson, a tall, sturdy man, and four children: three boys and a girl. They lived harmoniously, rarely quarrelling, always helping one another. But one by one, the children grew up and scattered.
The two eldest sons went off to university and later settled in distant cities for work. The middle son, never much for books, built a successful business that eventually took him abroad, where he stayed. The daughter, too, left their villageflitting off to London and soon marrying.
At first, the children visited often. They wrote letters, then switched to phone calls as mobiles became common. Grandchildren came one after another, and Margaret would pack her worn suitcase to stay with one family or another, helping as a nanny.
But gradually, even the grandchildren outgrew her care. The calls grew fewer, the visits rare. Work, their own families, their own growing childrenthey had no time to visit. The last time they had all gathered was for Fredericks funeral. Such a strong man, shed thought hed live to a hundred. Yet life had other plans.
After the burial, they drifted away again. At first, they called their mother, but soon, even those calls stopped. Margaret tried ringing them herself but quickly sensed she was a bother and gave up. So she livedalonefor the past ten years. Once a year, perhaps, one of them would remember her, and shed smile to herself for a week after.
One afternoon, as she sat on her bench lost in thought, a voice called out:
“Hello, Aunt Margaret!” A young man stood at the fence, grinning. “Remember me?”
She squinted. “Nicholas? Is that you?”
“It is!” he beamed, stepping into the yard.
Nicholas was the son of the neighboursa pair who couldnt go a day without drinking. As long as Margaret could recall, hed been a perpetually hungry child. Out of pity, shed fed him, given him her own childrens old clothes, and let him stay the night when his parents were too deep in their cups.
It didnt take long for his parents to drink themselves into early graves. Nicholas was taken awayto an orphanage, she assumedand she hadnt seen him since. Shed missed him terribly.
“Where have you been all these years?” she asked, overjoyed.
“First the childrens home, then the army, then school. Now Im backfor good! Going to revive the old village!”
“Revive it?” Margaret scoffed. “Everyones gone.”
“Ill manage!”
And so began a new chapter. Nicholas found work at Thompsons, the largest farm in the area. In his free time, he patched up his parents derelict cottage and helped Margaret with her chores. She brightened up, calling him nothing less than “her boy.” They lived like that for three happy years.
Then, one day, he looked at her sheepishly. “Im leaving, Aunt Margaret. Thompsons turned sourworks us hard, pays us little. Im off to find better wages. Dont be cross.”
“Cross? Never! Go with Gods blessing.”
And once again, she was alone. Sometimes, the loneliness pressed in so hard she wanted to weep. She passed her days waiting for the endyet something still held her here.
***
“Hello, Aunt Margaret!” A familiar voice snapped her from her thoughts. She turned toward the fence and saw a face she knew.
“Nicholas? Is it really you?”
“Its me!” The tall, well-dressed young man strode into the yard. “Ive come backfor good!”
“Oh, what joy!” she fussed. “Come in, come in! Ill put the kettle onwont be a moment!”
“Tea sounds perfect,” he laughed. “But first, Ill pop home. Didnt expect to find you heredidnt bring gifts!”
Half an hour later, they sat at the table, sipping tea from her best china, talking nonstop.
“Id nearly given up, Nicholas,” she admitted, dabbing her eyes.
“Dont even think of it!” He wagged a finger playfully. “Now that Im back, well live splendidlymake everyone envious! Ive saved upstarting my own farm. Youve got years ahead yet!”
Their peace was interrupted by a bright voice: “Hello? Anyone home?”
Margaret peered out the window to see a young woman in a stylish coat and heels standing in the yard.
“Who are you here for?” she asked, stepping out with Nicholas.
“Im here for Margaret Wilson! Im her great-granddaughterAlexanders granddaughter. I tried calling, but your phone was off, so I thought Id chance it!”
Baffled but pleased, Margaret ushered her inside while Nicholas took her suitcase.
As the girlVeraate happily and chattered about herself, Margaret and Nicholas listened in wonder.
“I hate the city. I want country life! My parents dont understand. Grandad Alexander suggested I stay with you a few monthssaid if I tried village life, Id lose the urge forever. He called you. So did Dad. So did I. But no one could reach you. Sorry to barge inI wont be a burden! Ive got money, and Ive brought gifts!”
“Stay as long as you like,” Margaret said softly. “Its a joy to have you.”
A month passed. Margaret sat on her bench, watching Vera expertly tend the gardenyoud never guess she was a city girl. With Nicholass help, theyd cleared the long-neglected plot, built raised beds, even put up a greenhouse.
Nicholas, too, was busy. With his savings, he started a modern farm, hired workers to fix Margarets roof, and installed proper heating.
Margaret was happier than shed been in years. Only sometimes, a shadow crossed her face as she remembered Vera would leave soon. Shed grown so fond of her.
But when the day came, Vera grinned. “Youll manage, Gran! Nicholas will water the garden. And Ill be back to weed!”
“Youre coming back?” Margarets heart leapt.
“Of course! I cant stay awayIve grown to love you too much. Besides, Nicholas proposed! Were marrying in autumn. Cant have a husband without a wife, can you? And hes a country boy through and through!”
A year later, Margaret sat in the sun, gently rocking the pram where her great-great-grandson slept. Vera and Nicholas were at the farm, thrivingand helping the whole village thrive with them.
Margaret looked down at the sleeping baby and smiled.
“Not yet,” she thought. “Ive still got work to do.”
