Come Home Anytime

I'm home.

He has returned with his suitcase. It is my son. He dutifully comes home for Obon and New Year's.
Not "Hello," but "I'm home."

Welcome home.
Seeing his face, for some reason, I feel relieved.
Not "Welcome," but "Welcome home."

Our cats are acting strangely restless. But, they will probably be sitting on his lap before long.

Actually, I have never shared a drink with my son, but when we eat, I sometimes gently clink my beer can against his.

The okonomiyaki restaurant we went to together for the first time in Kanto. I have carefully kept the photo of our two mugs side by side. Since I remember the date, there is... no chance of it getting lost.

During his visit, he spends every day fishing with his partner. Sometimes, he might come out shopping with us, maybe.
Eating meals, chatting a little, and then sleeping. Just a very ordinary few days.

I have actually never asked how long he is staying or when he is leaving. Somehow, it feels like rushing him, so I cannot ask.

The day before he leaves, I quietly tell my wife.
"Please tell him, 'Come home anytime.'"
"Why don't you say it yourself?" my wife replies.
"I suppose that's true."

"Come home anytime."
In the end, I sent it via LINE from my workplace.

Not "Come again," but "Come home anytime."

This is the scene from this year's New Year's.