Under the overcast sky, the wind whistled loudly in Grandma’s orchard. The rain hit the leaves of the trees and the drops slid down the metal structure of the Chicago Air Motor windmill.

«It’s a storm like no other, boys!» said Uncle Augustine, adjusting his hat and watching the windmill spin with unusual speed.

The children, fascinated, watched as the old windmill not only turned, but began to do so in the opposite direction. A strange glow enveloped the base of the windmill and suddenly a luminous crack appeared in the air, like a bright door suspended in the middle of the orchard.

«Uncle Augustine! What is that?» asked Marisol, clinging to the old man’s shirt.

Uncle Augustine scratched his mustache and squinted.

«Children… I think the windmill has opened a portal to the future!»

Unable to resist their curiosity, the children and Uncle Augustine approached. With a hesitant step, they crossed the glow and were instantly enveloped in a whirlwind of light.

When their feet touched solid ground, they found themselves in the same orchard, but completely changed.

The trees were withered, the mill rusted, and the well… dry. Where the garden once grew with fresh vegetables, now there was only cracked earth.

“This can’t be our garden!” Miguel exclaimed, looking sadly at the landscape.

A white-haired old man emerged from the bushes. He was a hunched man, with tired eyes. His hat, though dusty, looked familiar.

“Welcome… I never thought I’d see you again,” the old man said in a broken voice.

The children looked at each other in confusion… it was Uncle Augustine, but in the future!

“What happened here?” Uncle Augustine, the one from the present, asked, looking at his future self with concern.

“The garden disappeared because we stopped taking care of it,” the old man replied. “We let the water go to waste, the trees dry up, and the mill stop turning. And when we wanted to fix it… it was too late.”

The children felt a lump in their throats. Someone said… is this the future that awaits us?

“But we can change it!” Marisol said with determination. “It hasn’t happened yet!”

Old Uncle Augustine smiled nostalgically.

“You’re right. Every decision we make today builds tomorrow’s future.”

With their hearts full of determination, the children and Uncle Augustine ran back to the gate. Crossing it, they found themselves back in their beloved garden, still green, alive, and full of hope.

“We still have time!” Miguel said, and without wasting a second, he began to water the plants.

The others followed him, taking care of each tree, each fruit, and making sure that the water from the well was used responsibly.

Uncle Augustine smiled and leaned against the old windmill.

—Remember, children… the future is not written. We make it every day with what we plant, with what we care for and with what we love.

The children nodded with a smile. And as the storm moved away, the windmill turned again in the right direction, ensuring that the garden would continue to flourish for many more generations.

Uncle Augustine adjusted his hat, looked at the clear sky and said with a smile:

—And so, children, we learned that time is like the wind: it blows in many directions, but we can always use it to our advantage. Now, go wash your hands, because Grandma has a nice hot chocolate waiting for us.

The children ran laughing towards the house, while the windmill turned vigorously, as if it were telling its own story to the winds of the world.

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