When I was a kid, I truly believed there was a pot of gold waiting at the end of every rainbow.
Whenever one appeared after the rain, I’d get so excited. I’d point at it and ask my dad to drive toward it because I was absolutely convinced we were about to become rich. If I happened to be outside by myself, I’d start walking toward the rainbow instead, thinking I was finally going to find that legendary treasure.
The funny part is that I never questioned why the rainbow kept moving. We’d drive for miles, and somehow it stayed the exact same distance away. I’d walk farther and farther, and it still looked just out of reach. Instead of thinking, “Maybe this isn’t how rainbows work,” my child brain decided the obvious answer was that I simply hadn’t gone far enough yet. Looking back now, it’s really funny.
If there really were pots of gold sitting at the end of rainbows, wouldn’t someone have found one by now? Every time it rained and the sun came out, there would be absolute chaos. Traffic would come to a standstill. News helicopters would be flying overhead. Reporters would be interrupting regular programming to announce, “A rainbow has appeared just outside of town. Thousands of people are currently racing to the end of it in hopes of claiming the treasure.” People would be sprinting across parks carrying shovels or huge black garbage bags.
Instead…
Everyone just keeps driving to work.
No one slams on their brakes.
No treasure hunters come running over the hill.
Apparently I was the only human being taking this mission seriously and my dad allowed me to be a kid and have fun!
As silly as it sounds now, I miss believing things like that. Childhood had a way of making the impossible feel completely reasonable. They turned Rainbows into opportunities to go on a adventure and even though I never found that pot of gold, I did make some wonderful memories chasing rainbows with my dad. I think those moments turned out to be worth even more.
Crowned Brunette 