The Beauty of the Rainbows

In the summertime there were lots of cars and trucks moving up and down Cherry alley where I lived. Like the local bakery truck, many would stop to peddle their wares or deliver their goods. Their engines were not machined as perfect as today and so, when idling, they would inevitably leak some oil onto the asphalt. In the late afternoon on those warm summer days, an occasional thundercloud would appear. Those dark heavy clouds would then split open like chickpeas, spilling their contents on us. For a short while, those brief, intense downpours would beat everything into submission, then pass as quickly as they had come. Afterward, the sun would appear from behind the clouds in full glory; puffed up to full intensity as though to say: “if you thought that was something, feel this!” Then she would cast her fierce fire upon the asphalt until thin rivulets of steam would rise from the street. It seemed an upward-bound wagon train of raindrops fleeing the sun's heat; attempting to return to the safety of their cloud. Behind them they left oil slicks in ever widening circles of rainbow colors. It seemed a reflection of joy as the oil embraced the warmth of the sun. The circles spread outward like the blossoming of a flower. It was like the thankfulness of a prayer I shared with them for the precious gift of sunlight. I will always remember the beauty of the rainbows on the street where I lived. Today, I see people who choose only to visit the dark side of their lives. The oil slick on their road. For them, everything appears ugly or wrong. But given that we have a choice, wouldn’t each life be so much brighter if we looked at things through the beauty of the rainbows.