Day 152: The memorial service for my fishing buddy Sande was held today at his church, and we were fortunate to get through it with power. It was very windy when I drove into town, large branches flying across the roads, traffic signals not working, rain coming down in buckets, barrels and bathtubs, 150' Douglas firs bending almost to the breaking point, and the sky almost black. It had subsided somewhat by the time I left, the sun breaking through a narrow gap just long enough to create a rainbow against the dark clouds. It seemed symbolic, given the circumstances. Is it any wonder that rainbows feature in so many mythologies? They make us look up when we are downcast and dispirited.
I've often said and written that the world didn't pause when I was born and won't pause when I depart but maybe I'm wrong--perhaps it does notice. I would like to believe the rainbow was a gentle hug in your time of sorrow.
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