After the day my grandpa died, Grandma got us out of the house to try to cheer us up. It was hard, cause I was crying so much. We took her old gray 1985 Ford LTD. We drove listlessly through the streets, the whole time dark gray storm clouds loomed over ahead, blanketing us in a thick melancholy. A few minutes later we arrived at the old Ice cream shoppe. As Grandma and Johnny went inside, I waited outside, the dark clouds giving way to a heavy rainfall. A relief spread over my cheeks and eyes, cause I no longer felt wrong.
For years my parents knew something was wrong with me, the other kids all progressed at a normal pace, but I had linear interests. A thick introspection that covered me like a miasma of stoicism. They would call me a robot, a lifeless statue, because my face would betray no hint of emotion. The specialists called me... "Emotionally challenged." and other fancy terms I barely understood.
As Grandma and Johnny returned, Both with heaping scoops of rockyroad upon delicate waffle cones. Grandma approached me with a cone of Mint chocolate. I looked to her and said with eyes and cheeks soaked.
"Look Nana, I can cry too."
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