Chapter 27
Whistling Trees
This is officially chapter 27. Unofficially, it is the forgotten chapter. The chapter written last. There’s a good reason it is the forgotten chapter; I lied to practically everyone about where I was.
Robert was off for the week, or weekend… I can’t remember the reason why he was gone. I just know he wasn’t around to ask questions. I knew this weekend was coming up and I made plans.
An adventure.
I had forgotten all about this three-quarter day side trip. There were people I didn’t want to know where I had been. I couldn’t talk about being excited to go there, nor after about how much fun it had been.
Who didn’t I want to know?
Robert for one. The trip was to Colombia. Before ever coming to Panama, we had heard a news story about three missionaries that had gone missing from that area. Since then, it had been recorded that they had passed under nefarious circumstances. There was no way Robert was going to want me “hanging out” in that type of country.
The second was a group of people. My school. I had taken a personal time off day. I always called it a sick day, but I wasn’t really sick. I didn’t realize at the time that it was what PTO was for. So, shhhh… around them too.
Now, where was I hanging out? Above the rain forest canopy of Colombia! A co-worker had talked me into it.
“Come on Lee Ann. It’s something I always wanted to do and now I have the courage, if you come with me.”
“Linda, I’ve heard about Colombia.”
“Seriously? This canopy zip line is a tourist trap! They aren’t going to do anything to an American who is handing them money to see the countryside.”
“Did you read the legal document we’d have to sign?”
“The worst is the snakes, and they don’t really jump for you. Just keep your feet tucked in and don’t kick the treetops that you are close to.”
I looked at her like she was Medusa.
“Really! I read it in a book.
No one is going to bother us, you’re under protection.”
Her head just might as well have sprouted another snake.
She sat back a foot.
“Was I not supposed to say that out loud? Some kids were talking about it like it’s a fact.”
“I’m not really certain. What kids?”
“It was in Spanish.” She dropped her head a little.
She knew this immediately pulled everything she heard into question. She was the English as a second language teacher and knew no more Spanish than I did.
“I had a conversation with one kid. I tried to talk about it with Robert, and he blew the whole idea off.”
“You might want to have a second conversation with the kid then.”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Okay, you won’t have to.
I’ll make all the arrangements.
I’ll let them know who you—we are and when we will be there.”
“I have two kids! And there’s no way Robert’s going to okay this.”
“You make more money than he does here. You get to do what you want and anyway… I’m paying for the both of us! Look, it’s a couple’s price!”
“Do it. Do it. Do it. Get the maid to watch the kids. Pay her extra to stay quiet.”
I peek at where she pointed to in the brochure.
“You’d pay for it?
There’s no road there… “
“There’s a flight.
They do all the driving.
There’s a return flight.
It’s a two for one deal!”
“Robert’s taking off in two weeks.”
“Say that for me.” I said as I pointed to the name of the city.
“Bogotá.” She was winning. She knew it.
“Request that Friday off and I will too!
I’ve been here for six years.
I can’t believe I’m finally doing it!”
“Linda?”
“I know… isn’t it… “
“Awesome… ” simultaneously “High”…
We turned and stared at each other, then laughed.
Just in case she reads this, I will not say who said which.
We were strapped in a saddle seat.
We attached to the zip line through several carabiners.
We stepped.
The wind was in our face as we began our slow descent.
Linda was in front of me.
She was ten years my senior but had the enthusiasm of a toddler at Christmas.
We rode two different zip lines that day.
Neither was fast. At times we almost had to pull ourselves a few yards to get the momentum again.
But the view!
The monkeys were not active that day.
The birds made up for it.
Unlike the birds in Panama, these did not throw Spanish at us.
What looked like deep green, would at times break out into colors.
Flowers or birds would emerge.
We could see the rushing water that looked like a trickle from time to time.
And we heard whistles, unlike any bird.
There were whistles down below, then our guide would answer.
They were communicating.
The guide with us was connected to the people below.
This was the scene in my yard, just yesterday.
This memory emerged after a good night’s sleep.
I was on my deck at the back of my house.
It resembles my father’s doc on the river in width and length but only leads to a view of the mountains.
I stood at the corner of the deck looking out over the yard.
I had met, a young man who I thought was the owner of Saloman’s Tree Service.
He had his son with him.
No way was that child eighteen.
He named his price.
The deal was sealed with a handshake by both father and son.
Eleven trees went down.
It was eleven in the morning when we shook hands.
By two, my backyard was transformed…
Alive.
There were men, in my trees.
Men on the ground.
And ropes strung in between.
Men sewed together with ropes and whistles.
“It looks so familiar… ” I spoke to my eldest grandson, Rylan.
“You’ve seen stuff like this before?”
“No. It’s their whistles.
It reminds me of something.
I can’t remember what.”
“They are talking to each other.”
“What do you mean?”
“The whistles, watch…
they are communicating.”
Rylan watched as the one in the trees would whistle, once, twice…
The whistle was returned from someone on the ground.
A rope was sent up, or down.
Whistles loud and high pitch cut through the noise of the machines.
“I know they are communicating, but I don’t know how I know.”
Then I slept on it.
I woke up with the answer.
I woke up with my memory of a trip where I heard those same whistles from above.
The same whistles, but from above, between the treetops and the sky.
Joseph, I have another chapter.
He smiled.
I had told him of the adventure when we first met.
Then, we both put the memory to sleep, not to awaken until I had my grandson by my side.
When it was time to leave, the young man I spoke with that morning called my Joseph.
He said his father, Shorty, was on our driveway and we could pay him.
Three generations.
One business. Whistling trees.
Daniel's Den 