It started raining yesterday just before 4 o'clock. It was a driving rain. Rain that reminded me so much of the afternoon downpours in Guatemala. Almost daily the rains came. I'd sit in my room just after 4:00 p.m., and I'd wrap myself in a blanket, as I wrote words for you.

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.

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