Parents always worry about their children. Sometimes, parents end up feeling disappointed with their grown-up sons and daughters. The adult daughters at the heart of todays story are no different.
Barbaras Story
Barbara raised three children. They all grew up, moving on to lead their own independent lives. Her eldest son has a family and works abroad. He sends photos and postcards for Christmas and birthdays. Barbara cherishes these and often looks at them, remembering days gone by.
We miss you so much, son. Couldnt you come and visit us sometime? Wed love to finally meet your wife and the grandchildren, she writes longingly to her son.
Her middle daughter is married to a serviceman. They move from place to place with the Army, raising their daughter as they go. Now and then, they visit. Barbaras husband, David, always said he respected their son-in-lawa good, steady man for their daughter.
Their youngest, Alice, hasnt had the easiest time. She had been married with a son, but her husband left, and she ended up on her own. Following her mothers advice, Alice packed up and moved to London in hopes of better prospects. She found work as a seamstress at a factory and brought her son with her.
Not long ago, Barbara decided to pay Alice a visit.
Will you manage for a week without me, David? Barbara asked with a smile. I want to go and see how Alice is really getting on.
David gave her a ride to the coach station. She insisted on taking several heavy bags, determined to please her daughter with a few homemade treats. Hours on a bumpy coach in second class left her tired but happy at the thought of seeing Alice. After all, it had been three years since their last meeting.
Mum, why didnt you ring before you came? Im at work right now. I can only fetch you from the coach station this evening, Alice said when Barbara called to say shed arrived.
I just wanted to surprise you! Barbara replied. Are you sure I can wait there alone? Itll be fine, said Alice. Eventually, Barbara grew restless and, bags in tow, made her own way across the city.
At Alices door, Barbara was greeted by her grandsona tall lad, already looking a bit like David did at his age.
Hello, my boy! the grandmother exclaimed, pulling him into a hug.
Alright, Gran, thats enough! he laughed, trying to wriggle free.
Why didnt you come earlier, Mum? Alice asked, looking tired. I had to dash home, clean up and get some food cooking before you arrived. Left work early, started on stew and sausages.
Barbaras phone rang just thenDavid, sounding impatient but worried, asking if shed had any trouble. She reassured him, saying her grandson had helped with the luggage and they were just sitting down to eat.
At the table, Alice served hot bowls of stew. Will you have one sausage or two, Mum? she asked. Barbara was starving, could have eaten three, but she smiled and said, Just put them on the table, darling, and Ill help myself.
In the end, a plate of just five sausages and a pot of stew made up the welcome dinner. Barbara realised there was little of the festive atmosphere she had hoped for. She worried about finances, promising herself to help. During dinner, Alice asked her, right off, when she planned to go back. It stung; it felt as if shed already overstayed.
I could leave tomorrow if you need me gone, she replied, a note of sadness in her voice.
Barbara spent the day alone in the flat. In the evenings, everyone disappeared to their own rooms. Her grandson would be away with friends, and Alice always seemed to have plans with her colleagues from work. Barbara was left to her own thoughts, growing lonelier by the hour.
It soon became all too clear that she wasnt really needed. While packing, she overheard her grandson asking Alice, Whens Uncle Tom coming? He said wed go to the match together.
When Gran leaves, answered Alice.
Distressed, Barbara zipped up her suitcase and slipped out the door. Shed had enough. There was no goodbye.
David was waiting for her at the coach station, overjoyed to see her home. It turned out that, despite years of warmth and the care theyd poured into their children, those grown children simply didnt need them any more.
I learned, painfully, that no matter how much you give and care as a parent, there comes a time when your children no longer look to you as they once did. The house may grow quieter, but Ive come to accept that life moves forward, and happiness must be found in the time and love we still share.
