The sun was slowly setting over the orchard, tinting the sky with shades of gold and orange. The wind began to blow harder, making the branches of the old mulberry tree rustle.
Uncle Augustine settled under the shade, his hat firmly on and the sprig of wheat in his mouth. Around him, the children listened attentively to one of his stories. But then, a mysterious sound interrupted their conversation.

It was a melody, soft, but clearly recognizable, floating in the air as if the wind were singing.
«Did you hear that?» asked Sofia, her eyes wide open.
«Yes! Where’s it coming from?» whispered Lucas.
Everyone fell silent, trying to locate the source of the melody. It was coming from the windmill.
Uncle Augustine stood up slowly, frowning. His expression suddenly changed, as if his mind had traveled back in time.
«It can’t be. » he murmured in a trembling voice.
The children looked at each other, excited and confused. Why was their uncle reacting like that?
Just then, Grandma came out of the house with a tray of freshly baked bread. But when she heard the melody, she placed the tray on the table without saying a word. Her eyes filled with surprise and nostalgia.
«That song…» she whispered, moved. «Our mother used to sing that song when we were children.»
The children felt a thrill of emotion.
«How is that possible?» Tomás asked.
«Maybe the windmill learned to sing?» Lucas joked.
The melody continued, carried by the wind, lost among the trees in the orchard.
«There must be an explanation. » Grandma said in a serious voice. «But first, we need to remember the full lyrics.»
She sat down in the old rocking chair and closed her eyes. Then, in a sweet and melancholy voice, she began to sing:

«Blow the wind, take me away,
take me to the river, take me to the sun.
When I return, tell me a dream,
tell me who I was, tell me who I am…»

The children listened attentively. It was the exact same melody that was playing from the mill!
«This is incredible. » murmured Lucas. «It’s as if the mill remembers her!»
«That means the mill might be hiding something.» said Sofia with a big smile. «We have to find out what it is!»
The children ran around the mill, touching the aged wood, trying to find any clues.
«Maybe there’s someone hiding here,» said Tomas, putting his ear to the structure.
«Or maybe… the mill is haunted!» joked Lucas, although with a slight shiver.
Uncle Augustine stroked his beard curiously.
«I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do believe in old stories that still have something to tell.»
Grandmother ran her hand along the walls of the mill, as if searching for something in particular.
«When we were children, our father spent hours fixing this mill. He always said the wind had its own voice and, with the right tool, it could even sing.»
Just then, a stronger gust of wind blew, and the melody became clearer and sharper.

The children and Uncle Augustine decided to investigate further. If the windmill could sing, there must be something hidden inside it.
With flashlights in hand, they climbed the creaking staircase to the inside of the tower. Everything was dark, covered in dust and cobwebs.
«It smells old in here,» Tomás commented, wrinkling his nose.
«It’s a windmill with many years… and many stories,» Uncle Augustine replied.
Lucas ran his hand along the wood and noticed something strange.
«There’s something here!» he exclaimed, pointing to a small metal box embedded in one of the beams.
«What could it be?» Sofia asked excitedly.
«Well, we won’t know if we don’t open it,» Tomás said, rubbing his hands together.
Uncle Augustine took an old screwdriver out of his pocket and removed the lid of the box. Inside, they found a mechanism made of tubes and very thin wooden paddles.
«It’s a giant whistle!» Tomás marveled. «More than a whistle,» Grandma explained with a smile. «It’s a wind organ.»
«Organ?, Like a piano?» Lucas asked.
«Something like that, but instead of keys, it uses the wind to make the tubes sound,» Grandma said.
Sofía leaned over to get a better look at the mechanism.
«So… when the wind blows hard, this device plays the song. That’s why it sounds just like your mom’s melody!»
Grandma nodded with a nostalgic smile.
«Our father must have built it many years ago… but I don’t remember ever seeing it.»
«Maybe he did it in secret, so the song would never be forgotten,» Uncle Agustín said, moved.
The children tried to blow into the tubes, but instead of the melody, an off-key sound came out.
«We don’t know how to play it!» Sofía laughed.
«It sounds like a cow learned to sing!» Tomás joked. Uncle Augustine laughed and shook his head.
«It’s because the wind is the true musician here. Only he knows how to make it sound right.»
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind entered through the cracks in the windmill, causing the mechanism to vibrate. And the melody rang out clearly again, filling the air with its sweet harmony.
Lucas looked at the others with a big smile.
«We did it! The windmill is still working!»
Uncle Augustine took off his hat in a sign of respect, and Grandma closed her eyes, letting the memories take over.
«This song accompanied us in our childhood… and now it’s still here, as if the windmill knew we still need it.»
Back in the orchard, the children and grandparents sat under the mulberry tree.
«So, our grandfather left this here, so that the wind would always remind us of his song,» Lucas said, moved.
Grandma nodded with a tear in her eyes.
«It’s as if it’s sending us a message from the past, reminding us who we are and where we come from.»
Sofía looked at the windmill with a new perspective.
«Maybe one day, when we’re no longer here, someone else will hear this song and wonder who sang it.»
«And so, history will live on,» Tomás said with a smile.
Uncle Agustín adjusted his hat and looked at the horizon.
«Stories, like songs, are never lost if someone remembers them.»
The sun was beginning to set behind the hills when the wind blew again. And once again, the melody rang out, enveloping everyone in a moment of pure magic and nostalgia.

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