Last night RM wouldn’t wind down enough to go to sleep, so I took her outside for a little walk up and down the street. It was an unusually quiet evening for our neighborhood full of children. The only sounds of play came from the backyard of a house at the far end of the street in the cul-de-sac.

The sky was a little cloudy and the sun was setting behind the row of houses on the cross street where ours begins. We were walking slowly down the street, and in the sky the streaky rows of puffy clouds were tinted a deep rich pink. RM likes to wander up and down each driveway as the sidewalk crosses it. She loves to stand on top of the round metal covers over the storm drains also. So in our meandering way it probably took us ten minutes just to make it the half a block to the end of the street.

Then we turned to head back the other way towards home, and arching over us, perfectly centered on our little street was a pale, wavering rainbow. It was mostly just an arc of light against the clouds, but the center section was full of the perfect bands of colors. It faded in and out, brighter for a moment, then nearly gone, then clear again. As we walked back it stayed with us for a bit, and then we passed under the low branches of a tree. When we came out the other side, the sun had sunk too low and the rainbow was gone.

In those few minutes, I thought about running home quickly to get the camera, and I thought about how I wished the boys were there too, and I thought about who I should tell and what they were missing. But those were passing thoughts, and honestly I really just watched it as we walked, admired how the light created the colors, and enjoyed the few quiet minutes with my daughter and how special the evening had become. It’s important to hold on to moments like that, and not to lose them in thoughts and regrets and too many plans.