Are you listening?
When I was a very small child we lived on a farm for a time. I don’t remember much about it except for three of the animals. A horse named Charlie that I loved to ride with my Mom, a duck named Sally that supposedly was “mine”, and a raccoon named Rocky. I hated the raccoon. He wasn’t friendly at all and I was scared to death of him after getting stung by a bee in my underarm (!) when lifting the cage lid to feed him one day. I was convinced it was his fault and the “Rocky” story is one I’ve told many of times in my life.
Yesterday while driving to work I was listening to an “oldies” station and the song Rocky Raccoon by the Beatles came on. About halfway through the song I realized I knew all of the words and I was flooded with thoughts of my Mom. It’s been a year and a half since she died and the station was definitely the music I grew up with. Anyhow, as I sang along to the radio maneuvering morning traffic it dawned on me that my Mom had named that old raccoon after this song. Now I don’t know this to be true, but I would bet money on it.
The sad part is I will never be able to ask her. I will never know if my hunch is right and although it is a small insignificant thing, the mere fact she isn’t here to ask really bothers me in a curious way. I have to wonder how many more random things are going to come to light that I will have to forever file away as “things I will never know”.