We Both Heard Our Names

My sister and I drove part of the Natchez Trace Parkway during a road trip through Mississippi several years ago. Neither of us had ever been on it before, and we stopped at a few places along the way just to get out of the car and look around.

At one of the historic stops, we decided to walk one of the shorter trails. It was late afternoon but still light out, and I don’t remember feeling uncomfortable or anything. We were talking while we walked and my sister suddenly stopped and asked why I had whispered her name.

I hadn’t.

I thought she was messing with me at first, but she was completely serious. She said she had heard me say her name from right behind her. I told her I hadn’t said anything, and we kind of laughed about it and kept walking.

Maybe a minute or two later I heard my name.

It was clear enough that I turned around because I thought my sister had said it, except she was walking beside me and hadn’t said anything.

That’s when it got weird because we had basically experienced the same thing. She had heard her name and thought it was me, and then I heard mine and thought it was her.

We stopped and looked around for other people, but we couldn’t see anyone. I don’t remember seeing anyone else on that trail the entire time we were out there.

We kept walking, although probably a little faster than we had been before. Nothing else happened, and we made it back to the car without hearing anything else.

We didn’t really talk about it until we were driving again. We tried to come up with explanations like another visitor somewhere nearby or sound carrying through the trees, but neither of us could explain why we each heard our own name or why it sounded like it came from right behind us.

I’ve always thought it was strange that we didn’t hear the same voice or the same word. Whatever happened seemed specific to each of us.

I don’t know what we heard out there, but if I ever drive the Natchez Trace again, I don’t think I’ll be stopping for a walk that late in the day.