Light, Even Then

 I saw a rainbow today.

It felt almost ironic, considering the kind of week I’ve been having, the kind where everything familiar suddenly feels slightly misplaced, like furniture moved in the dark. Nothing catastrophic. Just the quiet realization that something you thought would stay… didn’t.

I wasn’t looking for meaning when I noticed it. I was actually trying not to think at all. Just walking, just existing, carrying that strange heaviness that follows disappointment, the kind that doesn’t scream, only lingers.

And then color appeared across the sky.

Soft. Unbothered. Completely indifferent to whatever was breaking or healing below it.

People like to say rainbows are signs. Proof that things will get better. That endings lead somewhere beautiful. I don’t know if I believe in guarantees like that anymore.

But I do think timing matters.

Because a rainbow only shows itself when rain hasn’t fully left yet. The storm is still nearby. The air still feels heavy. And somehow, light insists on arriving anyway.

Standing there, I realized maybe healing doesn’t begin when pain disappears. Maybe it begins the moment you notice beauty again, even while your chest still aches a little.

It didn’t fix anything.
It didn’t bring answers back.
It didn’t undo what ended.

But for a moment, it made the world feel wider than my sadness.

And that was enough.