The first call of the thunder—the roar—runs an immense exhilaration through my veins. Rains are like tears. Like a person crying. Perhaps that’s why they bring with them such gloom. It’s like the beautiful blue ocean above us is mourning. It has seen too much; getting darker in its already deep blue color. A three year old’s cries, his screeches, mean nothing but annoying infancy. When we see tears releasing from someone old and wise, however, we know a deep gravity exists to it. Too wise and great to be able to fit into our little pools of comprehension. Maybe the trees, the leaves, the air and the sky feel it too. What we feel. A stem’s first leaf is like a baby’s first step. They are both restless to grow more leaves, walk more steps. They want to run. Compete. Grow. Little do they realize that their fun games are turning into big responsibilities. One leaf after another and another… they add weight. What was once thrilling, what we wanted more of, now, has turned into burdens that we must endure. The beautiful roof that shelters this earth has to be strong, brave and confident. You wouldn’t want your ceiling to be crooked, weak and filled with leaks. It won’t be a good protection for your loved ones. Nonetheless, with immense strength, comes immense responsibility. My dad barely cries, but when he does, in those silent drops I see years of miserable persistence. He lets it all out, one by one. That’s why I smile when it rains. I sympathize with it and am happy that it is letting it all out. I don’t get sad because I am more than glad to take in some of what it’s been enduring. Just as kids shouldn’t abandon their old parents who sacrifice their whole lives for them, we shouldn’t complain when our mother nature releases herself from some sadness. Instead, we should help her. Thank her for feeding us, taking care of us and loving us. Because after the rain, the sun shines brighter than ever.