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| September 20, 2015 |
It’s a natural phenomenon, a scientific given: shoot
sunlight through vapour and a rainbow appears.
An ordinary miracle. Ordinary because it happens all
the time. Miraculous because the timing is often … curious.
A photo was posted of the rainbow that appeared in
Florida over the facility where the celebration of Dr. Wayne’s life had just
occurred. I was doing the dishes that night, pondering the symbolism of it,
when Ter called me from the Ocean Room:
“Ru, you’ve got to come and see this rainbow!”
The day had been rainy and dark, and fraught with
frustration at the ongoing renovation of the suite downstairs—I am so frigging
sick of construction that I already hated our new neighbours and I had yet to
meet them. Not their fault; I’ve been subjected to construction/reconstruction
racket since the lunchroom next to my office was built last March. There has
been no escape, no sanctuary, all summer. Work on building the elevator shaft
at home (what we jokingly refer to as “the Trump Tower”) began in June, and at
the office, the eighth floor was reconfigured to accommodate new staff in
July/August. At least weekends had been quiet, until the place downstairs sold
in September. Now the weekends are shot because the new folks are doing it themselves—and
guess what? They have day jobs too!
So that rainy Sunday had me perilously close to the
end of my rope.
Dr. Wayne’s rainbow seemed significant, hence my
pondering when Ter called. Rainbows may be the mandatory adherence to physical
law, but they mean so much on a spiritual level: Hope. Joy. Love. A promise
that all will be well if it isn’t already—and when I joined Ter in the OR, I
saw the most incredible display of glowing colour arcing over our house and
plunging into the sea. I almost wept.
Instead, I grabbed the Canon and ran outdoors to
capture the moment. The pictures do little justice, and once I admitted defeat,
I merely stood in the misty breeze and admired the incandescent, hard candy
colour, all the while marveling that it had come to me at all.
“It’s going to be all right,” a quiet voice whispered.
And it will be.
I promise.
With love,
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