{"id":1056,"date":"2021-03-24T18:27:30","date_gmt":"2021-03-24T22:27:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.writechriswrite.com\/?page_id=1056"},"modified":"2024-10-26T08:34:10","modified_gmt":"2024-10-26T12:34:10","slug":"remembering-how-to-whistle","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.writechriswrite.com\/index.php\/remembering-how-to-whistle\/","title":{"rendered":"Remembering How To Whistle"},"content":{"rendered":"

I forgot how to whistle yesterday.<\/span><\/p>\n

Eventually it came back to me, but I must\u2019ve looked like a fool standing there in the aisle at Target, pursing my lips as I tried to find the right muscle movements. I don\u2019t recall the last time I tried to whistle, so perhaps it was lack of practice that led to my inability to remember how.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not like riding a bicycle, whistling. Then again, it\u2019s probably been longer since I\u2019ve been on a bike, so I don\u2019t have much faith that skill will return as easily either. After the hip replacement in \u201917 and the nasty fall I took last summer down Jared\u2019s steps (I offered many times to help him fix those steps and he never took me up on it), not to mention the dizzy spells and fuzzy vision that just seem to come on with no warning as of late, I\u2019ve no business getting on a bike.<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen watches me, her brow creased with a look of concern.<\/span><\/p>\n

A thought crosses my mind. <\/span>Am I still standing there? Was that yesterday? Where am I?<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

I look around. I\u2019m home now, laptop on my bony old knees as I kick back in my Barcalounger with the cat purring on my legs. Helen is here too, knitting on the couch. I must\u2019ve gotten a weird look on my face again because Helen sat her needles down and reached for my hand. I get confused sometimes, but Helen is my beacon, my rock that guides me back. I don\u2019t know how I\u2019d get on without her.<\/span><\/p>\n

We\u2019re in the living room of our apartment, doing our own things but still together. The television is on, but no one is watching. Just background noise. There was a time when no one wanted background noise; back then the quiet was peaceful. Now the quiet is too loud, filled with passing trucks, the shake of the train rumbling by, even the upstairs footsteps and random squabbles of neighbors. The background noise of life got to be too much to listen to, so we drown it out with the ambiance of a sitcom laugh track.<\/span><\/p>\n

I remember why I tried to whistle yesterday. Helen bent down to get something off the bottom shelf at Target. I thought she\u2019d appreciate that, make her smile, show her that this old goat wasn\u2019t too far addled to whistle at the sexy backside of the woman he married almost sixty years ago.<\/span><\/p>\n

But instead of making her smile, I worried her. I must\u2019ve been an awful sight like that, my lips rolling around trying to find the right position to make noise. Probably thought I was having a stroke. By the time I found Helen\u2019s eyes and tried to explain I was trying to whistle, the moment had shifted.<\/span><\/p>\n

As you get older, worry piles up fast like compound interest. It doesn\u2019t take long before people are sitting you on a bench, asking if you know your name, what day it is, all that jazz. You have to work through the progression, nod along politely and not get angry about a small misunderstanding that morphed into something bigger than it is.<\/span><\/p>\n

I wanted to jerk my arm away from the Target pharmacist leading me over to a nearby bench and yell out, \u201cLet go of me, I just wanted to whistle at my sexy wife, you twit!\u201d But if I do that, it becomes a whole other thing. Then they\u2019ll say you\u2019re angry AND confused, which means they\u2019ll call the cops or an ambulance. Which one they call depends on if you\u2019re in a Target or a Walmart.<\/span><\/p>\n

That path leads to even more questions, some needle pokes, a different person in a white coat asking the same questions, all which you have to nod and smile along. By now it\u2019s been far too long to share that you only intended to make your wife smile, too many people involved at this point.<\/span><\/p>\n

An ordeal like that eventually leads to another hushed conversation around the dinner table when the kids visit, deciding if maybe now\u2019s the time to move me to a home. I\u2019m getting too unruly, I need constant supervision, constant care. I get up to go into the kitchen and tell them off but Helen takes my hand, tells me it\u2019ll be alright, nothing\u2019s going to happen.<\/span><\/p>\n

I remember now, the whistling incident wasn\u2019t yesterday. It couldn\u2019t have been. There\u2019s ice on the windows today. We had gone to Target for sparklers and snap pops for the grandkids for when we went to Jared\u2019s house for his 4th of July party.<\/span><\/p>\n

We used to have the party at our place, but the house was too much for us to manage so we sold it and moved to the apartment we\u2019re in now. First-floor walkup, no stairs. Probably why we hear so many noises too, being ground level right next to the street. Plus the upstairs neighbor is a hefty man, a good guy, don\u2019t get me wrong, but not light on his feet by any means. I tried to tell him he should try to work that weight off, it only gets more difficult as you get older. Daniel I think his name is. Does something with computers. I don\u2019t think he liked my suggestion, even though I meant well by it.<\/span><\/p>\n

I see Helen furrowing her brow at me again. Did I do it again? Or am I still doing it? <\/span>Is this Target? Where am I?<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

I\u2019m at home, in the Barcalounger. I go to stroke the cat who likes to warm my legs, then I remember we haven\u2019t had a cat for quite some time now. But I could\u2019ve sworn I felt his warmth on my legs, the purring vibrations\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

I remember now. We never did get the sparklers, or the snap pops.<\/span><\/p>\n

I open the door and I\u2019m in a hallway. It\u2019s bright, far too bright for this time of night. I\u2019m confused again, like when I tried to whistle at Helen at Walmart yesterday. Or was it Target? Yes, it was Target, we were there to get sprinklers and snap pops for Jared\u2019s 4th of July party. Maybe he\u2019ll have fixed the steps by then. That\u2019s where I cracked my hip last year. It was last year, wasn\u2019t it?<\/span><\/p>\n

Not sprinklers, sparklers. We were getting sparklers and snap pops. For Jared\u2019s 4th of July party, which was yesterday. But it wasn\u2019t yesterday, because the window is frosted over with ice, and Helen is\u2026 where is Helen?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHelen?\u201d I call out. She doesn\u2019t answer. I swear her hearing is getting as bad as mine. Maybe I should try whistling for her, she\u2019d have a laugh about that.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I step into the hallway, but it isn\u2019t our hallway. It\u2019s too bright. Something\u2019s wrong.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Sanders?\u201d a voice called out behind me. I turn and see a woman at the nurse\u2019s station. She\u2019s a bigger gal. Maybe I should tell her about Daniel, they\u2019d be good for one another. Or did I tell her about him already? Wait, I think I did, when she wished me a Merry Christmas last month. I don\u2019t think she liked the suggestion, but I meant well.<\/span><\/p>\n

It couldn\u2019t have been last month. Yesterday I was at Target with Helen, buying sparklers and snap pops for the grandkids when we-<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you okay, Mr. Sanders?\u201d She asks. I feel her hand on my arm. Reminds me of Helen\u2019s hand. Warm, soft, gentle.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026 I was looking for Helen,\u201d I say after much deliberation.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her brow furrows, much like Helen\u2019s did when she saw me trying to whistle. I must be making the same face.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019ll be back soon,\u201d Effie says, standing up from her seat. She walks with grace, even for her size. Not like Daniel. Maybe they wouldn\u2019t be a good match.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood,\u201d I tell her. \u201cYou know I get lost without her.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Effie leads me back to my room and helps me into bed. This place isn\u2019t so bad. I remember not wanting to come here after I tripped and fell down Jared\u2019s busted step, the same one I offered to help him fix all those times. Forty years pouring concrete; I could\u2019ve fixed that step in a jiffy. But he said no.<\/span><\/p>\n

I told them all I\u2019d be fine at the house. No, not the house, the apartment. We had a first-floor walk-up, no steps.<\/span><\/p>\n

Steps.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

I remember now, Helen fell down the steps too. Did I pull her down with me? There was so much blood. Was she okay? I started shaking. <\/span>Where is Helen? Where is my wife?<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Effie puts her arm around my good hip and pulls me closer to her, holding me up as I regain myself. I relax a bit. Helen is fine. Effie told me she\u2019ll be back soon. She wouldn\u2019t lie to me. Effie knows that Helen is my rock, I get lost without her. I told her so.<\/span><\/p>\n

Wait, did I just tell her? <\/span>Was I talking just now?<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

I must have been because Effie nods and smiles as she pulls the warming blanket over my legs. It vibrates softly. It helps with circulation after the accident.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCan I get you anything?\u201d Effie asks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhen you see Helen, tell her I\u2019m in here,\u201d I say. \u201cShe gets as lost as me sometimes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I feel a hand on my shoulder, it’s Helen sitting in the chair beside my bed. I lean into it, feeling her warmth against the cold.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh! Here she is,\u201d I say, smiling at Helen. \u201cI thought I lost you for a moment!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen smiles back at me, her eyes bright as ever. I don\u2019t know what I would do without her. She\u2019s my rock.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll leave you two be, Mr. Sanders,\u201d Effie says. She turned the television on, some old sitcom on TVLand, background noise to cover the sounds of instruments buzzing and beeping.<\/span><\/p>\n

Before she closes the door she turns and smiles at us. It wasn\u2019t her typical bright smile. It seemed confused; kinda happy, but also kinda sad.<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe she was trying to remember how to whistle.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

External Links:<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Remembering How to Whistle<\/span><\/strong><\/a> – on Reddit’s NoSleep<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I forgot how to whistle yesterday. Eventually it came back to me, but I must\u2019ve looked like a fool standing there in the aisle at Target, pursing my lips as I tried to find the right muscle movements. I don\u2019t recall the last time I tried to whistle, so perhaps it was lack of practice […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1056","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t