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The many lives of Ichabod

Around our house everyone had a wonderful ability to remember… the only problem was, that the memories didn’t seem to match up!
“That wasn’t the way it was!”
One day I was reliving an incident (alone) about an orphaned baby pigeon and decided to test reality. (whatever that is) I wrote my account down (ie…an owl had gotten into the pigeon loft and killed the parents, leaving the single baby. This bird was placed in the care of the oldest son, and he named it Ichabod.
Ichabod was a brief encounter in our life. Both sons were now “middle-aged” and together with us briefly for Christmas.
I went to my wife, and my sons separately and asked them to write out the story of Ichabod, without talking about it to another member of the family.
Several nights later we sat in the living room and each read the TRUE story of Ichabod.
Yes, you are correct. There were four completely different stories!
In one, an overworked caring mother nursed a baby bird which died from thrush.
Another talked about a dove that was raised, while still another remembered the glorious grown pigeon flying back to the flock.
All four people were sure that they had written the account with care.
There was less “you don’t remember that correctly” after that.
God bless you Ichabod, where-ever you may be.