Goines On: Om-m-m

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It was now less than a week before the Goineses would fly Delta to Charles DeGaulle Airport. Maybe that was why Goines’ blood pressure was reading high. He had sat still – and he thought, relaxedly – for a couple of minutes before putting the cuff on, but the first reading was 148 systolic, and the next two, after sitting still for a couple more minutes each time, were both 154. No, no, no, he said to himself, unrelaxedly, before he took one more reading: 163?!
    He took the cuff off and put the monitor away. He needed to purchase a few items of fruit for the days remaining before the September 30 flight, because they hadn’t bought Costco’s much larger quantities of them the day before. He’d buy them from Walmart and deal with this blood-pressure thing later.

    After parking at Walmart and walking halfway to the entrance, he stopped and said “damn” out loud. He had just realized he hadn’t brought his wallet, which contained his credit cards, not to mention his drivers license. On his drive back home, casting annoyance aside, he imagined making a joke of it.

    “Hey! I’m back from Walmart. Quick trip, eh?”
    Mrs. Goines agreed. “What happened?”
    “I thought of something too important to delay: I came back to make a sign to post at the hall chest: ‘Are you going to drive somewhere? Take your wallet!’ How many times have I gone to a store without my wallet? Umpteen times, but I still couldn’t remember it today. Time to make a reminder sign.”
    “Will one be enough?” asked Mrs. Goines. “Better make two.”
    “Do you think I should put one in the car? Wait! I know: one at the hallway chest, and one at the garage-door opener.” He selected a marker and a stiff piece of white card stock and made two signs, sticking the first into a corner of the mirror above the chest, and taping the other below the switches in the garage.
    And, with his kangaroo pouch containing his wallet this time strapped around his waist, he went off again to Walmart....

    Back home, after putting the bananas in the bowl on the kitchen table and the kiwi fruits, apples, and mandarins in the refrigerator, he sat down again at the dining table and secured  the BP monitor around his left wrist.
    He didn’t know where “Om” came from, but he starting intoning it as he wound himself down before clicking the monitor on.  “Om-m....” What a wonderful sound! He could hear it vibrating in his throat, in his body.... “Om-m-m...Om-m-m-m... Om-m-m-m-m....” His spirits rose, as he imagined his blood pressure lowering.

    “What’s that noise?” asked Mrs. Goines, a bit alarmed. “It seems to be coming from the back yard.”
    “It’s me,” he said, “I’m Om’ing. Om-m-m...Om-m-m....”

     A minute later, Goines’ systolic pressure was 132. He smiled, recorded the reading in his iPad notes, and opened the Google app to look the word up in Wikipedia. What were those Buddhists – or whoever they were – doing with Om?

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