What's in a rainbow? Of course, we all know the basic science of light and water vapor, and what happens when the two combine in ideal circumstances. But what do people see when they look in rainbows? Bands of color, streaking across the sky in every hue? Songs from Kansas, OZ, and Jim Henson? Wishes, promises, dreams, memories?

I see a little girl. She can't be older than six, in a striped-print sundress and pink plastic sandals. Her hair is the tangled remains of the morning's spiral curls, tousled and disheveled from wind and play. She is skipping along an evening parking lot, the summer light giving way to the bright iridescence of moonlight. Even the breeze is warm, without a cloud or a raindrop in sight. She is not alone.

Holding her hand is a man like none other. Decades older, in jeans with holes in the pockets, and shoes he refuses to throw away no matter how badly the water seeps through when it rains. His wallet is a thick bulge in his pocket, full not with money, but loaded down with mementos and pictures of his family. A mustache that tickles when he kisses her goodnight rests on his upper lip. A denim Hard Rock Cafe jacket seems ridiculous in the warm summer air, but the theatre may be cold, and he has his daughter to keep in mind.

They are singing. Or, truthfully, he is singing to her. A song reserved for bedtimes or the occasional off-hand moment when it just fits, like her small hand in his. A song about rainbows and diamonds, stars and the moon. The little girl is smiling, excited to be out in the glorious night, tugging impatiently on her father's hand. Her eyes are cast upward, at the glittering diamonds he is singing about.

What movie they were going to see I cannot recall. But in that moment, the world made sense. She was safe, happy, and loved. She was not alone, confused, angry, hurt or sad. She was a little girl, happily listening to her daddy sing her a song.