Friday, September 27, 2024 (Approx. 7:15pm)
While driving home from the office, and through the Ozarks, I was minding my own business, focused on the curves and humming with the radio. I’d been on the road for a short while, heading home to Eureka Springs, Arkansas after a day at the office, when something caught my eye...
I looked up, and there it was: a rainbow. A fully arched rainbow.
I’ve seen a rainbow or two in my day, but this was different. This rainbow seemed to follow me. I’m not exaggerating — every turn I took, every hill I crested, there it was, like some kind of celestial paparazzo. I half-expected to find a pot of gold in the backseat, or at least a leprechaun hitchhiker asking me for a ride.
What does it mean? Was this a sign?
The thing about rainbows is, they’re not just some random splash of color in the sky. They’re a delicate dance between sunlight and water, a show put on by the universe when the conditions are just right.
Rainbows are all about physics — light, to be specific. When sunlight passes through a raindrop, it slows down and bends, like a runner taking a curve on the track. This bending is called refraction.
But why was it following me? It didn’t make sense. I kept driving, and so did it, hanging in the sky like some cosmic stalker. For the first time since I moved here in 2018, I saw many people along the road, stopped, in and out of their cars, pointing their phones at the sky, mouths agape, like they were seeing a UFO.
The thing about rainbows is they don’t just pop up without a reason. They’re a result of the perfect storm, literally and figuratively. You need sunlight and rain in just the right proportions, at just the right angles. The puzzle pieces have to fit perfectly. And then it hit me — the rain. This wasn’t just any random downpour. This was the tail end of Hurricane Helene, the one that had been battering Florida’s coastline for the past few days. I hadn’t really thought much about it, assuming it was too far away to have any impact on me, nestled safely here in the Ozarks.
But weather doesn’t care about distance; it doesn’t recognize state lines or borders. It’s like the ultimate global citizen, going where it pleases, and taking its time to spread its influence far and wide.
I had this lightbulb moment, this sudden clarity: Oh no, Hurricane Helene did this.
She’d been causing a ruckus down in Florida, the kind that makes insurance companies very nervous. Apparently, Helene had sent a bit of herself northward, and by the time it reached the Ozarks, it was more of a soft whisper than a scream.
Helene was essentially giant atmospheric tantrum. Shortly after she formed, she was quickly drawing energy from the surface heat. As the warm, moist air started to rise, it caused a low-pressure area for form underneath. More air then rushes in, rises, cools, and then, and in no time at all, the whole thing spirals out of control. To be specific, she went from Category 2 to Category 4. (Some perspective: Hurricane Katrina was Category 3.)
Now, hurricanes and rainbows aren’t exactly best friends. One is a chaotic force of nature; the other is, well, a happy little light show. But when a hurricane dissipates, it leaves behind a lot of moist air and, if the conditions are right, sunlight.
Think of it like this: a rock star checks-in, trashes the hotel room and then leaves a bouquet of flowers as an apology. That’s what Helene just did.
The chaos and beauty of nature intertwined.
And so, there I was, witnessing the gentle aftermath of her fury — a rainbow, soft and vivid, stretching across the sky like a peace offering.
Driving under this incredible sky, trying to take it all in, thinking of all the times I’d overlooked the simple pleasures of life — how easy it is to miss these things. I thought of how rainbows have always been a symbol of hope, of promises kept, of pots of gold and happy endings and a globally recognized symbol used to spread the celebration of diversity, equity and inclusion. In my blogpost entitled, "Who you callin' a flag?" I elaborate more on this globally recognized symbol and how it came to be.
I kept driving, and the rainbow kept following, a tenacious little thing. It was like it wanted to tell me something, but what? That life is a remarkable journey? That even after an atmospheric tantrum, there’s beauty? That joy is all around us if you just stop and look up for a moment? (Check out my blog-series entitled: More Joy!)
I don’t know what it was trying to tell me, but it was hard not to feel a little bit of wonder, a little bit of gratitude, and a little bit of awe.
"The thing about rainbows is, they’re ephemeral. You can’t touch them, can’t hold them. They’re here and gone, a fleeting moment of perfection. Maybe that’s what makes them so special, the way they force us to pause, to look up, to see something beautiful and know that it won’t last, but that’s okay. It’s enough that it was there."
I finally got home, the rainbow still hovering like a celestial chaperone. I sat on the porch, watching as it faded, slowly, into the darkening sky. I wondered if the people I’d seen along the road, the ones who’d stopped and stared, had gone home and told their families about the rainbow, if they’d felt the same sense of awe and wonder.
To me, much of the beauty of a rainbow lies is in its impermanence, its fragility. It’s there, and then it’s not, and all you’re left with is the memory, the sense that, for a brief moment, the world was a little brighter, a little more magical.
As I sat there, the last faint traces of the rainbow disappearing, I thought about the people I’d seen, the ones who’d stopped to look up at it. In that moment, we were all connected, all a little bit amazed, a little bit hopeful. It was like a shared secret, something we all knew but couldn’t quite articulate.
Maybe that’s what rainbows are — reminders that, despite everything, despite the chaos and the confusion, there’s still beauty in the world, still something worth stopping for, something worth looking up for. It’s a cliché, sure, but sometimes clichés are true.
I went inside my home, feeling a little lighter, a little more at peace. The world is a strange place, full of hurricanes and heartbreak, but also full of rainbows.
And so, there I was, with this story I couldn’t wait to tell, this experience that I knew wouldn’t translate, not really. How do you describe all this in words? How do you convey the feeling of seeing something so beautiful it makes you forget, just for a moment, all the things that weigh you down? You can’t, not really.
All you can do is simply say, “I saw a rainbow today and it was beautiful. It followed me on my commute home, and it got more vibrant with each curve in the road.” And hope that, somehow, people understand, that they see in your words a glimpse of what you saw, that they feel a little of the wonder you felt.
Ahhh, rainbows. You can’t hold onto them, can’t capture them, can’t keep them. You can only see them, appreciate them, and let them go. And maybe that’s the whole point.❤️
This blog-post is dedicated to all those in the wake of Hurricane Helene. If you are able, and would like to assist, go here ==> The American Red Cross. They will ensure that your gift is used to help and support those in need. Much love, friends.
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