The Whistling Woman

I see her and hear her simultaneously. And, yes, feel her. She emerges from her driveway, a slim woman, all brown. Short brown hair. Brown long-sleeved shirt. Tan slacks. Beige sandals.

            She’s whistling. Not exactly a tune, but a steady whistle.  As she wanders out of her driveway and onto the sidewalk, her whistle steady and maybe beginning a little tune, I think, oh, she’s calling for her cat. That’s what she’s doing. I know I whistle for my cats. Of course, being cats, this doesn’t always work. It’s a better call for dogs. Unless you have a dog like cat. Pablo was this breed. He’d come when I whistled. Follow me around like a dog.

            So, maybe whistling woman is whistling for a dog?

            Yet, somehow it doesn’t seem so.  

            And, then, she sees me watching her. I admit I’m rather blatant about this staring, esp. on these pandemic walks. Everyone wants to chat and, if I make eye contact, they often will. Like the guy this morning, busy watering and trimming his immaculate succulent garden while I was petting a very vocal torbie cat. “Is this cat yours?” I’d asked since he’d stopped his work and was staring at me. “No, it belongs to a neighbor. But she likes you.”

            Then he’d gone back to his project, the chat over. The cat sauntered away from me into the middle of the street so I had to call it back over to the sidewalk. With a whistle? Now that I think of it, I so!

            This eye contact is key to making ‘connections’ with mostly strangers that are my neighbors. So, when I make eye contact with Whistling Woman, she doesn’t talk to me, or make an overt recognition of me, but….she starts to DANCE! I’m not kidding. She starts to snap her fingers, and skips into a little dance step to the rhythm, all the while continuing to whistle. Wow, I think, is she dancing for my benefit?

            I want to join her, but then don’t of course. I don’t know her. I can’t dance. It’s a delightful musical interlude in my walk this morning along with the whistling. Dancing!

            I admit I’m obsessed with all the dance shows on TV. So, You Think You Can Dance, Dancing with the Stars, and this summer, World of Dance. On this one, the dancers are world-class competitors. They move with a musicality that just boggles my mind. Two purple swirls, a brother and sister from Ecuador, cha cha chaing at a speed that defies physics. Their rhythm and attunement to the music is effortless and phenomenal.

            I love dancers! I remember when I worked at Double Rainbow in The City in 1984 and one of my fellow soda jerks was a dancer. I couldn’t help but stare at his amazing ass every time he bent over to scoop. I mean, I was shameless about it. He liked it or at least this is what I told myself. I can’t even remember his name. but I remember his ass!

            So today, when Whistling Woman turns into Dancer Woman, I am struck by how she suddenly becomes of this world of dance. Out on the street. Clicking her fingers.

            Just for me?

            Grinning to myself, I can only hope so as I do a little skip before continuing my walk down 32^nd street.