When I was little, my uncle Michael, who died of AIDS when I was ten, always called me Mouse. The nickname was based on the fact that I was born in the zodiac Year of the Rat, and he always told me it was the year of the mouse because he didn't want me to think I was a rat.
Yesterday at work, we were doing a team-building exercise that involved reviewing a list of animals and descriptions of their main characteristics, and selecting the animal that we felt most closely described us. The list was long so I scanned down the characteristics without paying attention to the animals they were listed with. One listing jumped out at me: "Scrutiny, order, organizer, and an eye for details." I immediately knew that this would be my choice to describe myself, particularly in a work setting. Then I looked over at the animal these words were listed with. It was a mouse.
I don't normally place stock in stuff like that, and in my head I know that it was just an irrelevant, random coincidence. But somehow it feels... serendipitous.
I miss him.
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