MS SISCOS STORY

The door of the room was open. It was a afternoon early in the fall when you wanted to hang onto every last bit of summer, the breezes that rolled up the stairs and through the door, the sun that freckled the books next to the tables where the children sat. A particularly strong gale of wind carried through the hall and brought Ms. Sisco to the childrens doorway where she stood all rumpled and gusted. Wheew, she said, seeing six little children agog at her presence. That wind is something! And I was going to read you a story. Her little fat face fell into a frown. That darn wind! Now what will I do?

It was such a good story too, she said, as she sat on the edge of the storytelling rocker. The children had gathered round full of curiosity. Where did our story go? They said. Cant you get it back? Who took it?

I hung on so strongly, she said, but I was no match for the wind. I was only halfway up the block when my book blew out of my hands. That wind! I was mad enough to stomp my foot. I told that old Wind what I thought, taking stories that children were waiting to hear! The children sat around the rocker waiting to hear what Ms Sisco had told Old Man Wind. He must have been listening because the next thing I knew I was higher than the treetops and swirling around and around! I could hardly say a word for all the blowing and gusting. First there were no treetops, not even one, nothing but blue sky and plunk! I landed on a fluffy white sofa with guess who looking right at me----Old Man Wind himself.

He was huge, Ms Sisco leaned forward in the rocker holding out her arms to the side. He had long white hair that curled and waved like the sea. She used her hands and fingers to curl around her head in circles. He lowered one big bushy brow over his blue as sky eye and said: What exactly are you going to do about me, he asked. And made his mouth into a round O and sent a spout of air that raised Ms Sisco up off the white sofa. Now that exactly what I meant, she said. Doing all this huffing and puffing for no reason. She had picked herself up and was looking right at Old Man Wind. What do you need with a storybook? Old Man Wind just got fuller and fuller. He swelled up so that his face was hidden from sight. He got taller than any building Ms Sisco had ever seen. Oh, oh, she thought, now Ive done it. And just then she was swept away by the roaring blast when Old Man Wind opened his mouth.

Ms Sisco tumbled and tumbled. She tossed and turned. She flew so high she could only see white clouds. Only white clouds with what looked like dots of color in them. She sailed right past what could only be a pink umbrella that was sticking out of a cloud with the words BARBIE in big white letters. Slowing down she saw a dog house with the words FIDO painted on the front over the door. She grabbed the arm of a chaise lounge and pulled herself down. Next to the chaise was a lovely needlepoint picture that said HOME SWEET HOME.

Everywhere she looked was dotted with things the wind had blown away. Next to an apron that had green apples in jars on it was a yellow inflatable swimming pool. A nice fat bale of straw sat atop a barn roof with the weather van sticking up straight through the straw pointing at a string of Christmas lights draped over a piece of white picket fence with the sign TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE in big red letters. There were catalogues, canvases, ropes, twines, jars, pencils, papers, paintbrushes, hair rollers, underwear, pictures of dinosaurs and even a rug. My word, she said. How will I ever find my story?

The Wind had quit howling and was now peacefully tagging along behind Ms Sisco as she explored the nooks and crannies of Old Man Winds attic. Ive quite a few things, havent I he said just a bit boastfully. Well, there certainly seems to be just about everything, she said, seeing a poster that said I LIKE IKE. Old Man Wind huffed and puffed and the white fluffy cloud peeled back to reveal sprigs of evergreen holly with bright red berries. Ive got everything here, and this time he really was boasting. You could just see how his chest swelled up and he got a satisfied tone in his voice. A tip of a book showed and Ms Sisco grabbed it thinking it was her story but it was only a book with the title HOW TO LEARN TO TYPEWRITE in faded gold letters. I will never find my story, Ms Sisco said, the Wind immediately agreed. You sure wont he said. Ive got more stuff here than you could go through in a lifetime. Why, I havent even gone through it myself.

I dont suppose you would know where my story is? Said Ms Sisco. OF COURSE NOT! Old Man Wind shouted. It could be somewhere over India for all I know. Or maybe in a cloud over the Maldives. My job is just to get them here. I dont sort them out. Not at all. Well, said Ms Sisco, who does? Dont you have anybody to do your sorting and filing? How do you find anything?

At this Old Man Wind sort of sagged and said, Thats the problem. I used to have some help but SANTA CLAUSE got behind and I havent seen my elves since. Now everything is at sixes and sevens. Just last night I wanted a good book to go to sleep by and I couldnt find anything but PANNING FOR GOLD IN THE ALASKAN YUKON. He slowly dragged along and Ms Sisco didnt know what to do but to follow. He past an opening in the cloud wall that let in lots of sunny beams that made him look almost transparent and Ms Sisco felt sad this great big fellow wasnt all perky and cheerful like he had been when he blew her up into the sky.

Ahead, the aisle opened into a great hall. Old Man Wind seemed to perk up and breeze along, almost happy now. Inside the great hall were hundreds and thousands of balloons. All kinds. Foil birthdays, fat rubber spheres of color, long slinky sausages, even twisted cones and balloons shaped into poodle dogs and dachshund. Along the walls, in every shape and size, were kites. Box kites, square kites, round kites, airplane kites, and streaming overhead where Old Man Wind had settled himself on a very comfortable-looking chaise, was the most awesome dragon kite Ms Sisco had ever seen. It had claws and teeth and was belching hot red fire. Its green scales wavered in the light wind. Its yellow eyes seemed to roam over the great hall with satisfaction.

Old Man Wind saw Ms Sisco couldnt take her eyes off the dragon and smiled. Im glad you like it, he said. He turned to survey the walls and ceiling; I come here when ever I am not up to par, he said. It always makes me happy. Usually I read, too, he said. Ms Sisco nodded, I see why you would want my story, she said. This is a wonderful place to read in. I wonder how many books you have here, she mused, thinking that she would just glance through Old Man Winds books to see if her story was there.

Old Man Wind frowned. Well, they arent here are they, he said. I gave them all away so the children could enjoy them. I only kept one, my favorite. He sighed. I loved that book. Its about my friend Sky. I read it every night.

You gave them all away, even your favorite? Ms Sisco said. Oh No, said Old Man Wind. I kept my favorite book. It was a mistake. I left it right here by my chaise and after the elves had packed up all the books to take to Santa Clause, one of the elves ran into get Rudolphs snack and saw my book-my favorite book- and grabbed it up too. So now its gone and you see, he said heavily, thats why I try to blow up as many storybooks as I can, I am hoping to get my favorite story back. I really miss the THE SKY AND THE STARS. And now Ive caused you to loose your story also. Im sorry, Old Man Wind said.

Well, once something happens, it cant be helped. No use crying over spilt milk. Ms Sisco knew she would never, ever find her story and Old Man Wind might never find his THE SKY AND THE STARS again. The children and I will write you a story, Old Man Wind. I will tell them all about you great hall and we will write lots of stories so that you can blow them all up to your hearts content. And you never know, someday you just might blow up THE SKY AND THE STARS.

So children, that is why I have no story for you today. Dont you think the Wind is wonderful? Ms Sisco and the children watched the wind-tossed leaves swirl in palettes of color in front of the big window, and somewhere, she knew, Old Man Wind was blowing up another storybook.

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