Whispering Pines- short narrative of a final goodbye

Whispering Pines

Ahead, the land drops sharply down towards the tiny lake below. From the top of the hill, it seems as if it is a small, chrome-blue mirage shimmering under the surprisingly warm early spring sun.

Wispy clouds string out like the mane of some mystical white stallion galloping across the vastness of the Alberta sky. Besides the clouds, the blueness of the heavens is occasionally broken by the reddish brown specks that are red-tailed hawks drifting overhead in search of their morning meal.

To the west rise the splendor that are the Rocky Mountains, still capped with the last of the winter's snows. Towards the east one can see the Belly River, a thin ribbon of azure breaking the pattern of rolling hills that is the beginning of the Canadian Prairies. Ice still grips the banks of the river in a desperate struggle against time and the onslaught of summer.

I am held motionless by the magnificence of my surroundings. The pine trees, that grow everywhere on this hill, quiver as the west winds dance through their boughs. The wind gusts, as if stirred up by my very presence here. I pull my hat down and brace myself against its increasing pressure.

I feel as if I am being washed by the Gods; cleansed of my past to stand there free of all encumbrances. Reborn with a mental clarity I have never known before. After a time, the breeze softens to a whisper, a soothing voice that eases my heavy heart.

I had come to this meadow once before. As was his wish, we had spread my father's ashes on this hill that had been his boyhood retreat. A place his troubled soul was then, and was now forever, at peace. A tranquil solitude consumes me as I stand there, listening to the wind as it weaves itself through the forest encircling me.

Suddenly it is not the wind I am hearing, but my father's voice. Strong and filled with his laughter that I have longed to hear for this past year. The wind that now blows against my shoulder hugs me as if held by his arm.

Tears that have wanted to flow for the last twelve months now stream down my cheek. As I look down to the blue water below, I wonder how many of my father's tears it had taken to fill that lake. I wonder if he, himself, stood in this place and felt its awesome powers and then I understand that he must have.

How long I have stood here, I do not recall. Time has been lost as I have been revitalized by unknown forces that seem to emanate from the pine forest and are carried on the west winds.

The piercing cry of a bald eagle abruptly breaks the trance I am under. There, perched atop the highest tree sits this majestic bird. After a moment, I turn and walk to where my horse has stood patiently awaiting my return. Swinging up into the saddle, I glance one last time at the eagle and wave goodbye. Words that I never got a chance to say have now been spoken.

I look skyward for a brief moment then start down the trail singing one of my father's favorite songs….

"Whispering Pines" (by Johnny Horton)

The snowflakes fall as winter calls
And time just seems to fly
Is it the loneliness in me that makes me want to cry
My heart is sad like a mourning dove that's lost its mate in flight
Hear the cooing of his lonely heart through the stillness of the night

Whispering pines, whispering pines, tell me is it so
Whispering pines, whispering pines, you're the one who knows
My darlin's is gone, ohh she's gone
And I need your sympathy
Whispering pines send my baby back to me

See that squirrel up in the tree, his mate there on the ground
Hear their barking call of love, for the happiness they've found
Is my love still my love, ohh this I gotta know
Send the message by the wind, because I love her so


Whispering pines, whispering pines, tell me is it so
Whispering pines, whispering pines, you're the one who knows
My darlin's is gone, ohh she's gone
And I need your sympathy
Whispering pines send my baby back to me