I can’t whistle.

I used to try, when I was a young girl, attempting to imitate my dad. His light-hearted whistle always made my heart jump. I felt happy, joyful, like everything was right in our world.

But I finally gave up about the time I began wearing ‘training’ bras. Whistling was a part of childhood to discard, like my favorite stuffed dog and a 7 p.m. bedtime.

Then, as a mom, I tried to teach my progeny, pursing my lips together, blowing out spittle, never succeeding. My children were just as genetically disabled, so the entire family gave up whistling years ago.

Until the joy of whistling returned to me one early morning this summer, when the boxes had been packed and the furniture readied.  The clock struck eight times, and a large moving van arrived with four men to load and drive our possessions to a new place, two minutes away.

I liked the condo my man and I had lived in for two years (lease ended, owner putting it on market), so all the time and effort necessary to start anew at another place was disheartening.

Until the movers arrived.

Except for one wiry man in his 40s, the other well-muscled fellows were 25 and younger. They arrived fresh-faced and attentive, despite the morning hour and the heavy load ahead of them. They talked little, nary a grunt between them all, and worked in a synchronicity that looked balletic.

And then.

A whistle

The dark-haired kid with one earring, a small goatee, and legs thicker than tree trunks began to whistle. You know, like a dwarf in Snow White, whistling while he worked.

Happily!

Gaily!

Loudly!

My spirit soared. This move would be just fine. We’d love our new place, my man and I, and we’d have fun unpacking everything and finding new ways to arrange the sofa and the tea kettle, the family photos and the hummingbird feeder, the computer table and the reading chair.

I smiled, pursed my lips, and ….. couldn’t conjure even the hint of a sound.

But that was okay. Jason the mover brought a whistle into my head, and that’s all I needed to sing happily all move long.

What about you? Do you whistle while you work, even if it’s soundlessly?