The Back

It’s strange to think about how different life was back in 2006. For me, it seems like an entirely different life altogether. I was eight years old, my sister would have been ten, and my younger brother, Daniel, was barely two. We’d often spend our days running amuck on the seventy-two-acre property. There was an abundance of opportunities for summer swimming activities in the creeks which weaved through the property. But on the rare days we weren’t outside, we would find things to entertain ourselves with indoors.

One particular weekend is one that always brings a smile to my face when I recall it. It was a lazy afternoon, and both my parents and siblings were spread around the living room. Mum was reading a book, Dad was busy scheming his next grand plan for the tourism business, my sister was pacing around the room imagining who-knows-what, Daniel was busily inspecting his favourite toy cars (which were handed down from me), and I was trying to assemble my latest Lego gadget. Life was great. Life was simple.

Suddenly, Daniel perked up, presumably because he realised he wasn’t getting attention (as two-year-olds do).

“Look, Yosh,” he exclaimed as he pushed one of his cars closer to me, “It’s my back!”

“What?” I chuckled, “Do you mean ‘car’?” I asked, confused.

“No! It’s a back!” he said stubbornly.

Mum lowered her book and glimpsed over at us to see what the fuss was about.

“Did you teach him that?” Mum asked curiously.

“No,” I said, still very much confused.

“Well, why is he calling his toy car a ‘back’?”

“I don’t know…”

We looked over at Daniel, perhaps expecting him to solve the mystery for us, but unfortunately, two-year-olds aren't well known for their communication skills. Daniel had since become bored of the conversation and had resumed playing with his toy cars, pushing them along the floor, and ignoring everything else around him.

Dad had been watching from the side of the room and had since wandered over to get a closer look. He picked up another one of Daniel’s toy cars, and showed it to him.

“What’s this, Daniel?” he asked in a soft voice.

Daniel looked up at Dad and the car, smiled and loudly exclaimed, “It’s a back!”

We all chuckled a little. As stubborn as he was, Daniel was a really charming kid. He was only two at the time, but despite also being my younger brother, Daniel was already one of my best friends. We'd do everything together. I loved him to bits (and still do of course).

“No, it’s a car. Can you say that? Car,” Dad said patiently.

“Back!”

Dad sighed lovingly. No one is as stubborn as a two-year-old who thinks they know best, and Daniel had already made up his mind. The toy thing with wheels and racing stripes was, without a doubt, in his mind at least, a back. We all sat around trying to figure out why he insisted that his toy cars were called backs. It just didn’t make any sense. Where had he gotten this idea from? We even had some family-friends come over to visit and no one could seem to figure out where Daniel had gotten this phrase from. After a while we just had to give up, and went back to enjoying the rest of our weekend.

Eventually, Monday morning rolled around, and it was back to school for my sister and I. Mum had just finished packing our lunches, and my sister and I were swiftly tying our shoe laces as we got ready to head out the door with Dad. The bus stop was quite a distance from our house so he would usually drive us to the bus stop in the morning while Mum and Daniel waited at home. It was 7:20am, which meant it was time for us to go, and Mum and Daniel were stood in the doorway ready to see us off.

As we said our goodbyes and walked out the door together, Dad suddenly chimed up, as he did every morning, “Alright you two,” he said as he hopped into the front seat of the car, “Get in the back.”

Everyone paused for a moment as it suddenly sunk in. We looked over at Daniel, who was standing in the doorway with Mum, listening to exactly what Dad had just said, and the mystery was solved. It took us a while after that to convince Daniel that a car was called a ‘car’ and not a ‘back’. After all, Dad had been calling it a back for Daniel’s entire life, and it was a perfectly logical conclusion to come to. Ever since then it’s been a recurrent inside joke that a car is called a ‘back’, but Daniel did eventually learn the correct terminology.

He’s seventeen now, and driving around in his very own ‘back’!