I Came to Visit Because I Missed You, but the Kids Feel Like Strangers

Parents always fret about their children, dont they? Sometimes, they even end up sorely disappointed with the adults their children become. Todays little tale stars three grown-up daughters and one rather exasperated mother.

Lets meet our mother: Margaret.

Margaret has brought up three children, all of whom are off living their own, thoroughly independent English lives. Her eldest son, Richard, has a family and a job in Australia. He sends Christmas cards and holiday snaps every so often. Margaret keeps every single oneshe flicks through them with a sigh and a cup of tea on lonely afternoons.

We all miss you, Rich, she emails him, peering over her reading glasses. Could you pop over at some point? At least let us meet our grandchildren and your new wife before we forget what you look like.

The middle daughter, Katherine, married a Royal Air Force man. Theyre always being carted off to some distant base with their young daughter in tow. Occasionally, they pay a whirlwind visit. Margarets husband Bernard respects their son-in-lawhe always says that at least Katherine found herself a decent chap.

Then theres the youngest, Emily. Emilys own family life is a bit well, lets just say its distinctly lacking. Emily was once married, has a teenage son called Jake, but her husband upped sticks and disappeared ages ago. Emily listened to her mum and moved to London, hoping for a shot at something better. She got a job sewing curtains in a factory, Jake tagging along with his oversized schoolbag.

One chilly Thursday, Margaret decided to visit Emily.

Will you survive without me for a week? she asked Bernard, already plotting her great escape. I want to see how Emilys getting on.

Bernard waved her off, muttering about heavy suitcases but secretly glad shed be tending to their youngest. After hours bumping along in a second-class train carriage (about as luxurious as a garden shed with wobbly seats), Margaret arrived, rather chuffed at the thought of seeing Emily again. It had been three years, after all.

Mother, why didnt you call ahead? Emily grumbled on the phone between work and work. Im at work I cant pick you up til this evening.

Surprise! Margaret beamed, undeterred. You sure you can pick me up? Its fine, Mum. Margaret waited about as long as she could, then tottered off to find Emilys flat on her own.

When she finally reached the building and rang the bell, her grandson Jake answered the door: tall, awkward, the spitting image of Bernard in his cricket-playing youth.

Grandma! Margaret enveloped him in a hug. Alright, Gran, thatll do, Jake wriggled away. Why didnt you get here earlier? Gran, I had to tidy the living room and set the table! Mums left work early and is making you roast and Yorkshire puds.

Margaret, holding back commentary, quickly answered Bernards call. Yes, dear, I arrived safely. Jake helped me with my suitcase. Were just about to eat. (She neglected to mention her grand solitary hike from the station.)

At dinner, putting out steaming bowls of rather earthy stew (something called improvised borscht), Emily asked, Mum, will you have one pork chop or two? Margaret, honestly ravenous enough to eat three, demurred politely: Lets put them all on the table; well see.

Five chops arrived, huddled forlornly on one plate. So much for a lavish reunion! Margaret quietly wondered if the family was hard up and resolved to help. During the meal, Emily abruptly asked when her mum was heading home. Stung, Margaret snapped that shed leave tomorrow if she was such a nuisance.

The next day, Margaret spent hours alone, pottering about as the others got on with life: Jake was out with his mates; Emily nipped off for coffee with her friends. Margaret watched Bargain Hunt in silence and wondered if shed ever felt so invisible.

She soon overheard her grandson asking, Mum, when is Uncle Rich visiting? We wanted to catch the Chelsea match.

Once Grandmas back home, Emily replied, rather too breezily.

Wounded, Margaret packed up and slipped quietly out before anyone could offer a half-hearted goodbye. Bernard, overjoyed to have her back, nearly knocked over a vase in his rush to greet her at the door. So, despite a lifetime of warmth and worry, Margaret realisedsomewhat grimlythat her children no longer had any real use for their well-meaning, slightly meddlesome parents. Typical, isnt it?