All of these are valid points.
But I love the wind. I think there's something exciting and magical in it. It makes me feel like a kid again, as I quote Winnie the Pooh and wonder what or who will blow in - like Mary Poppins. Adventures and friendships are bound to come from a good, strong wind. And my long, ringleted hair will surely be caught in a gust and blast about like a storybook character's.
I suppose that the reason Cynthia dislikes the wind is the very reason I like it so.
This is not to say that I look forward to my children growing up. I do and I don't. When I look back at an old film of L and she is so little and cute and different from the toddler she is now, well, it breaks my heart a little that I can't remember her like that.
But I like the way that the mighty wind blows. It sweeps the staleness out of my house. (Smell of poopy diapers - be gone!) It scatters the things that I was failing at (like growing herbs and peppers from seeds - they all blew away). It gives me something to concentrate on other than myself and the horrible, humiliating day I had Tuesday (it was really bad). It makes the house creak a little bit, it shakes the leaves as hard as it can, and it moans outside my windows. (Encouraging me to snuggle up to my kids and husband.)
And so I sing: It seems that it may turn out to be, Feels that it will undoubteadly, Looks like a rather blustery day today. Hum dum dum dee dee dum. Hum dum dum...