Margaret sat quietly in her nursing home, comforted by the view of roses blooming outside—reminders of the home she once had on Willow Lane. That little house had held decades of memories, but after her children moved away and loneliness crept in, she chose to leave it behind. Her days passed quietly until, one afternoon, a nurse told her she had a visitor—her son, David. After years of silence, there he was, older and worn. He confessed that his wife had left him,
taking the kids, and in his sorrow, he thought of her and the time they’d lost. He brought daisies—her favorite—and apologized for everything. Slowly, they began to reconnect. David visited often, bringing small gifts and shared memories. But when Margaret asked to visit their old home, David refused, saying only,
