"STOP THE TRUCK!" my wife screamed.
She scared the stuffing out of me. I slammed the brakes and nearly swerved into the ditch. I came to a stop in the middle of a cattle pasture.
"A rainbow!" she said, staring at a giant arch of color. “Can you BELIEVE it?”
I could believe a lot of things, but I wasn't in the mood to squeeze out a kidney stone over a rainbow.
This is because only few days earlier, our vacation had been full of thunderstorms and sadness. Jamie's father had just died—she was a wreck. And on top of everything else, it had been raining.
All week, we'd stayed inside
the condo playing five-card draw, using Cheetohs for poker chips, watching the rain.
So, we ended our trip early and left for home. And as fate would have it, as soon as we traveled three miles outside town, the weather broke. The sun busted through the clouds—it looked like God was announcing summer.
And so, there we stood, staring across ten acres of fresh Alabamian cow pies, watching moisture evaporate into color.
"Is that the tail?” she asked, pointing.
So help me God, the end of the rainbow was…