**Diary Entry 12th December**
*”We love you, son, but please dont visit us again.”*
An elderly couple spent their entire lives in a little cottage that had aged alongside them. They had no wish to move.
In the evenings, they often reminisced about the pastso many happy memories. Their children had long since grown, building lives of their own. Their daughter, Emily, lived in the next village over, visiting often with her children, filling the house with laughter. But their son, Edward, had moved far away. Five years had passed since his last visittoo caught up in work and other commitments, holidaying abroad with his new wife. Then, out of the blue, Edward called to say he was coming home.
The news thrilled them. His father cycled to the shop for groceries while his mother planned a feast, eager to spoil their boy. They counted the days. Edward had remarriedhis first wife had always preferred travelling, so they divorced. No children. Now, he was starting fresh.
He arrived late by car, ate supper, and went straight to bed. His parents sat quietly beside him, just watching him sleeptoo tired from the journey to talk much.
His father whispered excitedly, *”Hell rest well tonight, and tomorrow hell help chop firewood, muck out the stable, fetch a Christmas treewe havent decorated one in years.”*
His mother added, *”And the pantry floor needs fixing before one of us falls through.”*
His father turned in, but his mother lingered, adjusting Edwards blankets.
At dawn, his father lit the stove to warm the house. His mother baked scones. Edward woke near midday, stretching. *”Havent slept like that in ages,”* he said. After breakfast, he lounged on the sofa, telly on.
*”Son,”* his mother asked, *”could you help your father with the wood?”*
*”Mum, Im only here a few days. Let Dad handle itmaybe light the sauna instead.”*
Silently, his parents hauled water from the well themselves.
Later, his father asked, *”The stable needs mucking out. Youre youngcould you manage it?”*
Edward scowled. *”Think Im not exhausted from work in London? I came to relax, not labour.”*
After supper, Edward cracked open whisky, complaininghis posh flat, his pedigree dog, his ungrateful new wife, his dull job. His parents listened, drained, until they excused themselves.
Edward, offended, snapped, *”Ill go to Emilys. Youre dull company.”* His mother pleaded, hiding his car keys. He nearly kicked the door down before storming off to bed, blaring the telly. His parents lay awake, aching. His father found him snoring later and turned it off.
Next morning, Edward wandered the woods, came back freezing, and lazed by the fire with tea, oblivious. His mother nursed a headache.
They packed him a hamper of homemade jams and pickles. Edward grinned. *”Charlotte will love theseshes never had proper preserves. Weve got everything in London, but I wont say no. Forgot your gifts, thoughnext time.”*
His mother wiped her eyes. *”Dont come back, son. We love you, but you can lounge at home. Your tellys better anyway.”*
Edward faltered, mumbled goodbye, and drove off to his busy life, never grasping the hurt.
**Lesson:** Love isnt just visitsits respect. A sofa in London warms no hearts here.
