Shit taps me on the shoulder.
My son starts saying something about Zurich.
I am relieved to find a Kleenex in my pocket and say “Zurich? What?”
“When we were in Zurich together, you also got pigeon bombed.”
I wipe my shoulder. It has been a long time since I was last there. “I don’t remember being in Zurich with you”
“We were visiting your Aunt Edith.”
That would be a really long time ago.
It was the first time he heard someone say that getting crapped on by a pigeon was good luck. Memorable for him, just another pooping for me.
I still don’t think it was in Zurich.
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What’s the back story…
My son is 29 and my aunt passed 20+ years ago. I had assumed something recent and was surprised to learn he was talking about a significant childhood memory.