It’s my nephew’s 17th birthday today. Time goes by so quickly.
He’s been the joy of my life in so many ways, and now he’s old enough to drive. Lucky I already have quite a lot of grey hair…
We lived in the same household while he was little. He’s responsible for my family nickname – Ted – because he couldn’t pronounce “Tess” when he started to talk. He called me “Teddy” and it got shortened.
Lucy’s bus stories (here, here and more) remind me of a very precious memory:
My sister (who is a single parent) and I moved to this town when my nephew was about three years old. We live a couple of streets away from each other.
One evening shortly after we moved, I was on the bus coming home one dark evening. The bus was pretty full but not really crowded, and I was sitting at the back. By coincidence, my sister and nephew got on the same bus a few stops later.
He was in front of her as she paid the bus driver, looking adorable in his little leather flying jacket. He looked along the bus, did a cartoon double-take, then his face lit up like the sun and he yelled at the top of his lungs: “Mum, mum, Ted’s on this bus”. Then he pelted up the aisle and flung himself into my arms. As I hugged him I looked over his head to see almost everyone on the bus turned around looking at us with goofy expressions on their faces. Even the driver.
I still tear up every time I think of that. And I still sometimes see echoes of that expression on his face, behind the teenage cool.
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what a lovely story, ted. so glad you were inspired to share it with us. i continue to be reminded of antony’s comment on one of my bus stories: “The bus as teacher of deep truth about the human condition. Who knew?” blessings to you this weekend and happy birthday to your nephew!