Once upon a sky, high above a green and gentle land, there lived a little raincloud named Adewunmi.
Adewunmi was not like the other clouds.
While her brothers rolled with thunder and her sisters danced with lightning, Adewunmi stayed small, soft, and quiet. She had just one problem:
She didn’t want to cry.
“Come on, Adewunmi,” the Wind would whisper. “Let it out! The flowers are waiting!”
“But what if my tears ruin something?” Adewunmi asked. “What if I make someone sad?”
The other clouds didn’t understand. Crying was their job. It helped the rivers sing, the trees grow tall, and the earth stay alive.
But Adewunmi held her raindrops in, day after day, until she felt so full she could barely float.
One morning, she drifted over a dry village. The sun had been shining too long. The wells were empty. The plants drooped. Even the children’s laughter was tired.
Adewunmi peeked down and saw a little boy sitting under a mango tree, his cheeks dusty and his lips dry.
He looked up and said softly, “I wish the sky would cry.”
Adewunmi’s heart thumped. She had never heard anyone say that before.
The Wind nudged her again. “Now, Adewunmi. Now is the time.”
So Adewunmi closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to cry.
First one drop.
Then another.
Then hundreds.
Not loud tears.
Not stormy ones.
Just soft, sweet rain.
The earth drank gratefully. The flowers lifted their faces. The boy laughed and held out his hands, letting the drops kiss his skin.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, sky.”
Adewunmi opened her eyes wide. She had never felt so light, so loved, so free.
The next day, when the other clouds came to tease her, she only smiled.
“Guess what?” she said. “Crying doesn’t make things worse. It helps things grow.”
From then on, Adewunmi cried when the earth needed it — not out of sadness, but out of care.
And somewhere far below, a little boy always smiled when the rain began to fall.