Yesterday was St. Patrick's Day. For us, this is a day that, for the most part, goes unnoticed. I typically make some Americanized version of an Irish meal, maybe a green dessert if I am really ambitious, and that is that. With me working at a library now, I actually put a tad more thought into it this year, making decorations for a St. Paddy's display, showing a movie based on celtic mythology, and I even managed to throw together a cute green outfit that was library lady suitable. But still, no wild and crazy partying for me. No foot long green beers, no parade, not even an Irish coffee. And I can promise you, I did not chase any leprechauns to try to steal their pot of gold. Nor will I ever.
While a pot of gold might seem like a wonderful thing to get, I was always more interested in the rainbows that would lead me on the quest. For me, rainbows are so symbolic. They represent a promise that the storm will pass. Sure, that storm may shake the walls, it may be loud and frightening, it may even cause some damage, but if there is a rainbow at the end, I am always able to think things will turn out ok.
Rainbows, to me, also symbolize a journey, a transition from one state of being (rain) to another state of being (sun). While it is true that all of life is a journey, some parts of it seem more trying than others. Some parts seem like nothing but rain. But we trudge on, through the mud, with sodden socks and no umbrella at times, until slowly but surely, the rain lets up, the sun comes out, and there, in all its glory, is that rainbow we have been chasing.
So, as everyone else is spending today with St. Paddy's day hangovers, lamenting the loss of their pot of gold, I will sit here, patiently, waiting for my rainbow.
