Emma sighed, exhausted but happy, as she settled her children into the backseat of the taxi. Lily was four, and Charlie was eighteen months old. Theyd had a wonderful visit with their grandparentsbiscuits, cuddles, bedtime stories, and just a bit more mischief than Id ever allow at home.
I genuinely enjoyed the trip as well. My parents, my sisters, nieces, and nephewshome wrapped me up in its familiar embrace, where no explanations were needed. Mums cooking, impossible to resist. The Christmas tree sparkling with fairy lights and an odd assortment of touching, vintage ornaments. Dads toastsperhaps a touch long-winded, but always straight from the heart. Mums giftswarm, thoughtful, and always exactly what you need.
For a moment, I felt like a boy again. All I wanted was to say, Mum, Dad, thank you for being you.
The kids and I got into the taxi. The road home was peaceful; the little ones, worn out by their adventures, soon curled up together and drifted off to sleep in the backcontent, full, and safe.
On the way, I asked the driver to stop near a little corner shop.
Ill just be a momentneed to grab some nappies and water, I told him.
Five minutes later, I came back, got into the carand my heart plummeted.
The children were gone.
The driver was having a casual chat with a strangera young womanin the front seat.
Sorry, whats going on? I said, slowly, the words catching in my throat.
The woman spun round, glaring. Who are you? What are you doing in this car?
The driver shrugged and looked at me. Sorry, but who are you? Can I help you with something?
Are you two having a laugh?! Where are my children?! I shouted, panic rising.
You absolute scoundrel! the woman shrieked at the driver. So you have kids as well?! She began to whack him with her handbag.
Who are you picking up?! You cant just let anyone in! I was nearly yelling by now. Where are my children? Where?!
For the next few minutes, chaos reignedshouting, accusations, wild gesticulating. The entire world felt turned upside down and inside out.
Then, suddenly, the door opened. A man leaned in, calm as anything, and said, Excuse me Youre in the wrong car. Your taxis just up ahead.
The world stopped spinning. Without a word, I slammed the door, dashed over to the identical light-coloured taxi parked just ahead, and threw the back door open.
There, on the backseat, my children dozed peacefully. Two little angelsnot even disturbed by the fuss.
Relief flooded meit felt as though Id just been pulled back from the edge of a cliff. I climbed in, closed the door, and muttered to the driver, Lets go.
Then, all at once, laughter overcame mereal, nervous, and freeing. The driver began to laugh as well, mopping his eyes, clearly relieved the night had ended in a story instead of a tragedy.
Looking at my sleeping children, a simple truth hit me: parents, in their everyday lives, are gentle, tired, laughing, sometimes a bit absentminded. But the moment danger even glances our way, something fierce awakens inside us.
No doubts, no hesitation, no fearjust one thought: protect them!
Thats what love is. Quiet and unshakeable while all is well, but unstoppable when it comes to our children.
