The man with white hair and blue eyes.

When I was little and it was raining, my grandpa would always say that God is mad or sad at people and that’s why it’s raining.

My grandpa isn’t between us anymore, but I still hear his words in the back of my mind and the corners of my lips form a nostalgic smile…

 

Now I read when it rains.

If only the rain that falls would have the power to wash away our worries, sadness, anger and hate.