The second part of the triptych happened on Saturday. I spied a rainbow from the courtyard. It was lush and also dreamlike, the magic of the rainbow speaking to the magic of the last night's moonlit sky. It touched our mountain, like the moonlight, shining yellows and reds and oranges, warm light to the moon's cold counterpart. The sky was bright blue where the clouds were not. I stood, cradling my cup of tea in both hands, and I sang.
" . . . the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true." I sang it through twice from beginning to end. I didn't think once about my neighbors, felt goofy in only one swift passing moment. I just sang, and the rainbow went on and on and on, outlasting my song, as sweet as the richness and longing in Judy Garland's voice. After, I felt wistful and glad and grateful and not goofy at all.
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