But now I'm here. And Guatemala is there. And the weather is changing here. Where it was sunny and 80 here while it rained on me there, it seems I brought the rain home with me. I have had to dig my wool skirts out of my duffle bag and reclaim my raincoat from it's storage place in my friend's closet. And these were not things I needed while I was there. But I am here.
Yesterday as it rained, I parked under a pine tree and watched the rain fall on my windshield. It was not the warm rain of Guatemala. Afterwards, I drove toward home and spotted a rainbow reach across the sky.
Mama used to take us on drives through the farmlands whenever a rainbow appeared. She said we were searching for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I drove off on a side road and tried to find the end of it. But the rainbow kept moving. It kept changing. Still it was there.
I didn't find the pot of gold. Or even see a leprechaun.
But I saw a rainbow stretch itself way across the sky. And I knew that God remembers his promises. And as the rain pounded my windshield at 4 o'clock on a Sunday, I remembered Guatemala.
I am here. She is there. I am still remembering her.