Mrs. Whipperling's Wind

It was a wet day in February, when I was delivering the weekly paper to my neighborhood. I trudged up to my fourth house of the day, already wiped out. The mailbox read, "6 Whipperling". I looked up in amazement at the towering house, windows open and lights on. Sometimes I wondered what it took for Mrs. Whipperling to be able to call it a home. It spooked me out already, so how did she get used to such a crazy place? I pondered for a few seconds until I noticed the small woman with kind, sparkling eyes perched up on one of the windowsills. She seemed to be talking to someone or something. 
"Hello, Mrs. Whipperling!" I called, hoping she could hear. She looked around for a bit until she found out where the sound was coming from. Her face lit up when she saw me.
"Well, hello! I haven't seen you in about a week! Have you come to deliver my paper?"
"Yes, I have! I'm sorry to interrupt, but who exactly were you talking to a minute ago?" I asked. The little lady jumped off her windowsill and a second later, she was at the door, gesturing for me to come inside to escape the light rain. I trusted her, so I gratefully scurried through the door. 
"Come, follow me." She whispered as though someone could be listening. I followed, tiptoeing just in case. She led me upstairs to her windowsill where she had been sitting. 
"Here, sit down and close your eyes." She patted the sill and I sat down without hesitation. Once I got settled, I shut my eyes in obedience. 
"Now," She began, taking a chair for herself, "listen.". The world fell silent as I allowed myself to hear the great sounds of the town, but it wasn't the rain slapping the ground and the cars driving by that were speaking to me the clearest. It was the wind. The whipping wind that would not calm for a million years, even if it had to. It had a language of it's own, tickling my ear with the most wonderful words. Truly there could be nothing else so breath-taking as this. Wind. My wind. Mrs. Whipperling's wind.