The only thing that ties a string of familiarity with my country to this country is the rain. The rain tries to imitate the gorgeous appearance and it only succeeds up to some point. You can almost smell the vague attempt in the try and still you would nod your head in appreciation like a critic nods to the newbie performing.

I was almost asleep when the rain started. I remember when it used to rain a lot in the middle of the night. I bet mom thought I was asleep, but could hear mom closing the windows to make sure we didn’t go wet. I never got up, I guess in the back of my mind I liked her closing the window for me.

Here I was, standing by the window in the middle of the night, staring out to the rain bathed, lamp-lit driveways. Its sad that we don’t appreciate the small things our loved one does for us when we are near them. I could feel the futile attempt of my eyes to become clouds.


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