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What are tears in rain?

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The road was like any other. Ups and downs, green grass on either side, suburban homes, and a car in each driveway. Dad was driving the car with me in the passenger seat down this road, and I seemed to be the only person who noticed the clouds. It was very eerie, yet not a surprise. The storms and wind had only been getting worse over the past few weeks. Then the clouds were just touching the opposite sky. There was a stretch of blue sky that seemed to be collapsing rapidly , the darkest clouds were filling in the depressed areas. My dad briefly leaned forward and examined the sky, then resumed driving. Judging by his lack of concern I tried to let it go, thinking he had it under control. I still had questions though, like what if those clouds hit us? I looked at all the houses, lights on with happy families, blissfully unaware of the inevitable. I
envied those familie, as I failed to to remember any kind of connection in my family up to that point. The thing was, life goes on, with or without a smile. At this point my dad looked over and noticed my worried expression. At that moment the first drops started to hit the windshield. Unphased, he took my hand and looked me in the eye and said “Everything will be ok”. The rain seemed to come down like mad right then, but I didn’t notice. It didn’t really answer any questions I had, but it appeased them in a way. I noticed the rain now and the sky was getting darker and darker and the sound was so loud I would’ve done anything to make it stop. Then I noticed my dad wasn’t really annoyed by it; only a minor downpour on his windshield. I strained to look outside and saw the houses had their windows open and the children were playing outside, shirts and shorts. What was going on? Didn’t this affect everybody? Why isn’t anyone looking? Then I realized what was happening. The rain stopped. Everything was quiet. The dark clouds were still there, but it ceased for now. The families were still playing. Dad was still driving. The houses, the pavement, everything except the car was dry. I saw my dad with concern in his eyes and thinking about not going down the road, but he knew he had no other choice. I calmed down and accepted what appeared to be right in front of me. The road stretched and only got longer the farther we went down. I thought I saw an answer, a solution, a window. Then the clouds opened, releasing every drop. I slumped back in my seat, accepting what was so very obvious. I stopped asking if the rain would stop, even though I wanted to keep asking and asking, maybe get some hope that it would end. It didn't, and it became the rhythm of my life to this day, and into the foreseeable future. The thing is, there are always at least two roads. We might not know what it will bring us, but there is always an end. The road is never easy, they're just all different. The storm I encountered on this road wasn't on the other. My dad couldn't answer me because he didn't see the storm the way I did. I saw perpetual misery, he saw a son not knowing how to handle his parents separating. I saw raindrops, he saw tears. I saw a road, he saw my life in ways I couldn't comprehend then and still can't now. This road is my life now, but instead of naively wishing for the other road, sometimes you have to see the silver lining. Besides, doesn't blue sky always follow a storm?



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