I remember the first time I heard it.  I had never heard anything quite like it before, nor since.  It was the winter of 1976-77.  My parents and I had moved into an upstairs apartment.  It always started around midnite, a low menacing growl. Like something wild snarling softly in the bushes. But then the sound would grower louder and more intense, until finally it had grown into the high pitched shrieking of something tormented, demonic even!  I would bury my face into my pillow until the sound finally quieted down.  How much time passed?  I don't know.  It seemed like hours!  On one particular night, this screaming, this shrieking, came on suddenly and reached a fevered pitch that was unprecedented.  Again, I buried my face into my pillow and prayed to God to make it stop. I was ten years old and didn' t want to go crying to my mama, but somehow she just knew with her mother's instinct, that I was trapped in my bed and terrified.  She stole quietly into my room and slipped into the twin bed with me.  She wrapped her loving arms around me, and whispered softly in my ear, "It will be OK, baby.  It's just the wind."  With those two simple sentences and her loving embrace, my fears melted away.  That's been almost forty years ago--so hard to believe it was that long ago!  I now love to hear the wind blow, love a windy day. Somehow it calms me.  But today, I was sent to work for a lady who actually lives behind those old apartments Mom and I lived in forty years ago. And wouldn't you know it was a very blustery, windy day!  And as I was straightening up this lady' s bedroom, I heard it...  That low, menacing growl that suddenly turned into a screaming sound.  It startled me, and I jumped back a bit and whirled around, halfway expecting to see Mama there.  She wasn't. And the knife in my heart sank a little deeper in.  What I wouldn't give to hear her say, "It's OK, baby.  It's just the wind..."