tea kettle

Feeling chilly Fran put the teapot on and went back to her warm bed.

Six years ago Jim bought the whistling teapot.   They lay in bed many mornings fitting words to the rhythm of its whistle.   Silly things, kiddie things.  Sometimes serious things.

“The sun is up; time to get up.”

“The rooster crows; the north wind blows.”

Or laughingly – “Here we lay a’hummin’; and Heaven’s train is comin’.”

Three years, sixteen days ago Heaven’s train came for Jim.

Fran smiled, reminiscing his endearing words:  “You’re my love, my turtle dove.”

Will she hear him in the whistle today?


Rochelle’s challenge is to write a 100 word selection using photo prompt.

PHOTO PROMPT © Valerie J. Barrett






About oneta hayes

ABOUT ME Hello. To various folks I am Neat’nee, Mom, Grandma Neta, Gramma, Aunt Neta, Aunt Noni, Aunt Neno, and Aunt Neto (lots of varieties from little nieces and nephews). To some I’m more like “Didn’t you used to be my teacher?” or “Don’t I know you from someplace?” To you, perhaps, I am a Fellow Blogger. Not “fellow” like a male or a guy, but “fellow” like a companion or an adventurer. I would choose to be Grandma Blogger, and have you pull up a chair, my website before you, while I tell you of some days of yore. I have experienced life much differently than most of you. It was and is a good life. I hope to share nuggets of appreciation for those who have gone before me and those who come after me. By necessity you are among those who come after me and I will tell you of those who came before. Once upon a time in a little house on a prairie - oops, change that lest I commit plagiarism - and change that “house on the prairie” to “dugout on the prairie.” So my story begins...
This entry was posted in aging, death, loneliness, long marriage, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.


  1. atimetoshare.me says:

    Oh so sweet❤️

  2. neilmacdon says:

    Yup. She’ll hear him for sure

  3. Anita says:

    Creative and touching.
    There’s much more to the whistling.
    Hearing a loved one’s voice,
    Is a longing heart’s choice…

    Three Musketeers – Anita

    • oneta hayes says:

      Thanks for the creative response, Anita. I lliked your story and made a comment about the parents not letting their son live on a silver spoon. However, I don’g think it posted because of the google account situation. I don’t know how to follow through with that.

  4. Olga says:

    There are always reminders or signs of the loved one’s presence. Connections never die. Touching story, Oneta.

  5. pranabaxom says:

    Heaven’s train coming – sweet and sad.
    Well, it will come for all of us one day (or may be the one from hell for me? What does the whistle says😂)

    • oneta hayes says:

      I think she will still hear Jim’s voice as he whispered “You’re my love my turtle dove.” What do you think it might say. Or, do you not hear words coming from machines like the slush of the water in the dish washer? No, with your imagination, you have to hear poetry i the rain swishes of windshield wipers. 😀

  6. Faye says:

    Beautiful touching story. Thank you. May we all hear something beautiful in the kettle’s whistle.

  7. DB McNicol says:

    Beautifully written….I really enjoyed this one.


  8. Dale says:

    I like to think I hear mine now and again.
    This was lovely.

  9. James McEwan says:

    Endearing story of how memories are happy reminders of the our best times in life.

  10. gahlearner says:

    Oh, so sad, and at the same time so sweet. What a wonderful memory to have been loved that much. Lovely story.

  11. msjadeli says:

    I love how you built your story and how her husband still lives through her cherished memories.

  12. gillyflower says:

    What a sweet paean to a lost love!

  13. Abhijit Ray says:

    Nostalgic moment for Fran. The winter chill and kettle whistle refreshed her memory of Jim. Nice!

  14. granonine says:

    I believe she will “hear” him in her heart and mind whenever the whistle blows. A wonderful marital relationship is not ended by death.

  15. Wonderfully sensitive piece, I’m sure she’ll hear things forever

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