**Diary Entry 25th November**
“You dont need us anymore,” they said, and left.
“Mum, why do you keep doing this? We talked about it!” Emily huffed as she unpacked groceries onto the kitchen counter.
“Its just I wanted to help,” Margaret replied softly, her knitting needles resting in her lap beside the half-finished pink jumper. “I thought little Sophie might like something warm for winter.”
“Sophies fourteen, Mum. She wont wear a hand-knitted jumpershes got her own style now.”
Margaret sighed, setting the wool aside. Had she really misjudged so badly? Shed picked a modern pattern, the softest yarn she could find
“Will you come for tea soon? Ill bake an apple pieSophies favourite.”
Emily paused, slamming the fridge door harder than necessary. “We dont *have* time, Mum. Sophies revising for her GCSEs, James is swamped with work, and Im barely home before eight. We went over this last time.”
“Right, of course,” Margaret murmured, smoothing a crease in her apron. “I just thought, maybe Sunday”
“*No.* Were driving up to Brighton for Olivers birthdayClaire and Marks boy. Remember?”
“Olivers sixteen already,” Margaret smiled faintly. “Time flies. Could I come along?”
Emily frowned as if the question were absurd. “Its just a kids party, Mum. Youd be bored stiff. And the drives exhausting.”
“I wouldnt mind! I could bake the cakeremember how Oliver loved my honey sponge?”
“Theyve ordered one from Patisserie Valerie. Some fancy fondant thing.”
Margaret nodded, picking up her needles again to hide the sting. The children had their own lives now, their own rituals. There was no room left for hers.
—
Later, the neighbour, Doris from flat three, popped in. “Margaret, love, theyve cut the hot water againno warning! Fancy a cuppa? I cant wash a dish.”
Margaret brightened. “Of course! I was just thinking of baking, but well, no one to share it with now.”
“Emily visited?” Doris asked, slipping off her shoes. “Saw her car outside.”
“Dropped off groceries. Always in a rush.”
“They all are,” Doris waved a hand. “My Charlies too busy until he needs me to mind the grandkids. You ought to invite yourself overjust turn up!”
Margaret stayed quiet. Last time shed done that, Emily hadnt called for a week. “*We had guests from Jamess firm, Mum. You cant just show up with pies.*”
—
The calls kept coming. First, Jamesselling the family cottage in Cornwall (“*Its falling apart, Mum! Well put the money towards our new place*”). Then Emilyrelocating to Canada (“*Sophies got university prospects there*”). Finally, the suggestion: “*What about assisted living? Lovely place in Surreymeals, activities*”
Margaret refused. Firmly.
—
**Diary Entry 24th December**
Tonight, I rang Doris.
“You still going to your sisters in York for New Years? Mind if I tag along?”
“Margaret! Of course! Shes got the space. Changed your mind about the kids?”
“Yes,” I said, watching snowflakes settle on the windowsill. “Decided to stop waiting. Theyve their lives. Perhaps its time I had mine.”
Doris laughed. “Thats the spirit! Youll love Yorkthe Minster at midnight, proper Yorkshire puddings. And wait till those grandkids are older. Theyll come crawling back.”
“Maybe,” I said. But for the first time in years, the thought didnt ache.
The snow kept falling. A new winter. A new start. Alonebut not necessarily lonely.
**Lesson Learnt:** Children grow. Distances widen. But life doesnt end where their attention does. Sometimes, moving forward means leaving an empty chair at your own tableand setting a place elsewhere.
