Rainbows

Never been a betting person, but if I were ever to put money on anything, it would be on the probability that any given person would look at a rainbow. I know a few self-important people who might not; after all, they are the center of the universe. But for the vast majority of humanity, a rainbow is a magical sort of thing, an early childhood experience we never lose.

While my family and I were celebrating a very important event in my life, we were at a restaurant in the north end of Stratford, across the street from the helicopter factory where I once worked. Someone (Mom?) pointed out the window and said, “Look! A double rainbow! That’s special for you!” I don’t see doubles all that much, so perhaps she was right. I’ll have to ask Later On.

Some years ago, I was on the Provincial 20, approaching St.-Jean Chrysostome, somewhat across the river and southeast of Quebec City. We were tired from the long trip, it had been raining hard, and then before us was the most brilliant rainbow I have ever seen. It only went up part-way, but what was there just shone in the brightest colors against the gray background.

I thought, “If this is what rainbows are like in Quebec, I’m moving up here just for them.” I’d pay for it with the immense pot of gold I’d find there.

God’s gift after the storm passes.