It was raining.

Not the kind you step around or wait out.

The kind that soaks through everything—hair, clothes, plans.

We didn’t move.

I leaned into my son, closed my eyes, and let it fall.

Water ran down our faces, but neither of us pulled away.

There was no hurry in us. No need to escape it.

He stood steady beside me.

Solid. Present.

The kind of steady you recognize when life has tested it.

I have lived long enough to know what matters and what doesn’t.

Storms come. They always do.

Some you outrun. Some you endure.

And some—

you simply stand in.

This was one of those moments.

No fixing. No fighting.

Just being there… together.

It was raining.

We stayed.