I looked up from my computer screen (in my usual evening position creating yet another in the endless stream of COVID-19 related school schedules) when I noticed the rain was no longer hammering against the window. There, stretching across the dark sky, was a beautiful double rainbow. This simple display of nature evoked an instant, sharp, multi-layered reaction; filled with memory, grief, loss, followed by awe, comfort and peace.
It brought me right back to another moment several years ago, after the first spring storm in our first year in Grande Prairie. Similar rainbows seen from a similar direction, through different windows in different cities. All at once I am washed in memory, the hissing sound of the pressure cooker paired with the strong aroma of cooking Filipino food, the plaid of my husband’s shirt from his usual perch at the end of the couch, the salt and peppered too-long fur of our dog Patch curled up by the dining room door. A moment with these two who are no longer. With this memory comes the grief, dulled through time yet ever lingering under the surface, and along with it the loss, that hollowed-out familiar friend.
I opened the patio door, breathed in the fresh air and stood in awe of the rainbows until they disappeared into the re-emerging sunny sky. That act of being present and “feeling” the moment brought some needed comfort and peace, rainbow reassurances from Ruel and Patch. I got back on my laptop and searched for a picture I posted that night seven years ago. There it was, entitled “after the storm…”, and here I am, still weathering the storm. Pressures, worries and exhaustion from steering my school community through the ever-changing logistics of learning in a pandemic has indeed been a storm. The rain is lightening though, the sky clearing, the smiles and energy of returning students, like pots of gold.. Throughout, I have looked for the rainbows, signs that after the storm, it will be ok.
Commentaires