We
followed the orphanage housemother nun down the corridor,
single file. We were going to play indoors due to wintry
weather. Waiting to enter the playroom, I stood in line
in the required silence. Then it happened. After weeks
of trying unsuccessfully to make a sound by blowing through
my lips, a shriek escaped when I least expected it. The
smack across my face was swift, but it didnt dampen
my gleeI had learned to whistle! I smiled up at
the wimpled face of the nun who admonished me. But
I can whistle! I told her. She was not impressed
and told me so before she slapped me again. I looked down
at my feet, my face flushing from the heat of her temper.
It was then that I noticed my shoelaces were untied. I
looked at the heavy rosary beads hanging from the nuns
belt and said a little prayer under my breath. She yanked
me out of line by my ear, hissing that Id have to
sit out playtime until I tied my shoes. Never having learned
to tie anything in all my four years, I spent the rest
of the afternoon in the corner, flipping my laces, whistling
softly.