Here Comes The Sun: Signs From My Mom

When I was a little kid, whenever my mom would drive me somewhere—and she drove me everywhere: basketball practice, summer camp, a friend’s house, wherever I needed to go—whenever the song, “Here Comes The Sun” by The Beatles would come on the radio, mom would remind me every time, without fail, that when I was a baby she would sing this song to me. “It was your favorite song,” she used to say. “You loved it.” At the time, I didn’t know who The Beatles were, and I sure didn’t remember ever liking that song, but I just took her word for it. Many years later, when I would finally develop a taste and appreciation for good music, I actually grew to love it.

Fast-forward to yesterday morning: It had rained overnight, the sky was overcast, and I was in a shitty mood for reasons that had nothing to do with the aforementioned weather conditions. As I was finishing up my run, the sun popped out from behind the clouds, no doubt Mom letting me know that, “It’s alright.” Call it woo-woo if you want but I get little signs like this from her all the time. Anyway, please enjoy George Harrison performing “my favorite song” from sometime well before I was born. (Thanks, Ma.)