My grandmother told me that my grandfather was a joke. The village, the heat, the grandfather and the neighbor communicate and the neighbor asks:

When will it rain?

The grandfather answers:

I’ll tell you when it goes.

The neighbor did not understand anything, and they separated.

A few days later, at two o’clock in the night, a neighbor wakes up by knocking on the window:

Get up, the rain is coming!

It rained at night and went away.

It may be a banal thing, but the story delighted me. Grandfather was not alive for a long time at the time, and grandmother thought it was just a talk, but met a neighbor and he confirmed that grandfather in the night was all restored and demanded to go out to watch the long-awaited rain.