There was once a time I complained while looking out the window for every thunder

 

There was a time in my life when I stood by the window almost every day, watching the sky darken, and all I could do was complain.

If it rained, I grumbled that my plans were ruined.
If it thundered, I muttered that the world was too loud.
I didn’t see beauty in the silver streaks of water on glass or the way the air smelled fresh after a storm. All I saw was inconvenience.

I told myself the weather was against me, just like life was.
Delays, losses, unexpected turns — I wore them like proof that I was unlucky.

But life has a strange way of teaching you. One day, after a particularly hard year, I found myself once again standing at that same window. It was raining hard, the kind of rain that used to make me sigh in frustration. Only this time, I noticed something different: the tiny droplets clinging to leaves, the street being washed clean, the way the thunder rolled through the air like an announcement.

It hit me — the storms I had cursed were the same ones that made the world green again.
The setbacks I thought were obstacles were actually clearing the path for something better.
The delays I resented had kept me from rushing into places I wasn’t ready for.

I realized I had been ungrateful for both the blessings and the difficulties — not knowing they were partners in shaping me.

Now, when the sky darkens, I don’t complain. I watch. I listen. I thank the thunder for reminding me that even loud, inconvenient storms can be carrying something good.

The rain doesn’t always come to ruin.
Sometimes, it comes to make way.