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We Love You, Son, but Please Don’t Come Home Anymore.
**”We Love You, Son, But Please Dont Visit Again”**
An elderly couple lived their entire lives in a little cottage that had aged just as gracefully as they had. Moving? Out of the question.
Evenings were spent reminiscing about happier timesand there had been plenty. Their children were grown now, with families of their own. Their daughter, Emily, lived in the next village over, so she visited often, and the grandchildren kept things lively. But their son, Oliver, had moved away years agotoo busy with work and life to visit. Five years had passed since theyd last seen him. Holidays? Spent abroad with his new wife. Then, out of the blue, Oliver called to say he was coming for a visit.
The news thrilled them. Immediately, preparations began: Dad cycled to the shops for groceries, and Mum pondered what delicious meals to cook for their beloved boy. They counted down the days. Oliver had recently remarriedhis first wife had been more interested in globe-trotting than home life, so theyd divorced. No children, and now he was building a fresh start.
Oliver arrived late, ate supper, and went straight to bed. His parents sat quietly beside him, just watchingtalk was scarce, the long drive had worn him out.
Dad whispered excitedly, *”Our boyll sleep well tonight, and tomorrow hell help chop firewood, muck out the stable, fetch a Christmas treewell decorate properly, like we used to. We havent bothered in years.”*
Mum added, *”And the pantry floor needs fixing before one of us falls through it.”*
Dad turned in, but Mum lingeredstraightening the blanket, fluffing the pillow.
At dawn, Dad lit the stove so the house would be warm when Oliver woke. Mum started baking scones. Oliver emerged around noon, stretching and declaring he hadnt slept that well in ages. After breakfast, he flopped onto the sofa and turned on the telly.
Mum ventured, *”Son, could you help your father with the firewood?”*
*”Mum, Im only here a few days. Let Dad handle the sauna.”*
So the elderly pair hauled water from the well in silence.
After lunch, Dad tried again. *”The stable needs mucking out. Youre young and stronggo on, be a lamb.”*
Oliver scoffed. *”What, you think Im not knackered from work? I came to relax, not be your labourer!”*
Post-sauna, Oliver cracked open the whisky hed brought and launched into complaintshis posh London flat, his pedigree Labrador, how all the women were hopeless, how his job was soul-crushing. His parents, exhausted, finally slunk off to bed. Oliver, offended, announced hed go to Emilysthey were *boring* him. Mum burst into tears, hid his car keys, and begged him not to drive. He nearly kicked the door down, stormed off to his room, and blasted the telly at full volume.
The old couple lay awake, desperate for sleep. Eventually, Dad crept in, found Oliver snoring, switched off the telly, and tiptoed back.
Next morning, Oliver took a bracing walk in the woods, came back shivering, and cozied up with tea on the sofa, oblivious to yesterdays drama. Mum nursed a headache all day.
As they packed him off with homemade jams and pickles, Oliver beamed. *”This is brilliant! My wifell love thesenever tasted proper chutney before. Not that we dont have everything in London, but I dont want to hurt your feelings. Ohforgot your presents this year. Next time!”*
Mum wiped her eyes. *”Dont come back, son. We love you, but you can lounge on your own sofa. Your tellys better anyway.”*
Oliver realised hed hurt thembut words failed him. With a wave, he drove off, back to the whirlwind of city life.
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