My Sunshine Child

This is Josh, my sunshine child.

At 13 years of age and nearly six foot tall, Josh is neither boy or man but he will forever be 'my sunshine child'. His smile lights up the planet (although he is slightly squiffy in this photo having consumed a couple of glasses of wine at our wedding reception last year).

Last week I was called from the mainland where Josh goes to school (and boards during the week), to be told he had broken his arm whilst playing football and he was in hospital. I was 60 miles away - an hours drive by car to the ferry port with a further 45 minutes on the ferry. The last ferry had already sailed and I was stranded on Mull!

This is the down side of living on an island.

After a restless night, I left home at 7 a.m. the following morning and was at the hospital on the mainland by 10 a.m. And my boy? Oh, chilled and cozy, watching a DVD tucked up in a side room on the ward being cared for by the nursing staff. "Hi Mum", says he with a big cheery smile. "Look, I've broken my arm!"

Nothing fazes this boy of mine.

Several hours later after much pontificating by the doctors, I drove my son 100 miles to the nearest city where he spent another night in another hospital waiting for an operation to have his arm manipulated, reset and cast in plaster from his wrist to his shoulder!

Four hours after the operation, and 48 hours after the initial accident we were back on the road again heading north, arriving home on Mull later that evening, exhausted but just glad to be back in our own surroundings.

In that short period of time I had slept little, travelled 300 miles, worried and fretted as a mum but thankful it wasn't too serious; Josh in the mean time had thought it 'cool' to have broken his arm (some perverse sense of street cred and kudos here?) and remained constant and cheerful throughout. No fuss, no whinging, no whining, no tears or pain killers.

He never ceases to amaze me and I love him to bits.

Thank you Josh for being in my life.