The Light That Stayed

I have always seen rainbows as certainty.

A quiet yes, but a loud one.

A sign that what I am setting out to do will happen.

When a rainbow arches across the sky, I experience it as confirmation, a sense that the path ahead is clear and that what I am working toward will be obtained. So when I asked for a sign, that is what I hoped for.

But this one was different.

It appeared sideways in the sky, faint and unexpected, as I was driving from the lake house to my Houston townhouse, closer to the hospital, closer to care, and closer to a life that allows me to take better care of myself. It did not stretch across the sky or point the way forward. It stayed beside the sun, almost vertical, as if it were there with me rather than ahead of me.

Later, I learned it is called a parhelion, from the Greek meaning beside the sun. Many people describe them as pillars of light, or light that keeps watch. A light that stays close, not a sign of what will happen, but of strength and trust.

At first, I felt disappointed. I wanted the familiar arc. I wanted the sign that says, yes, this will happen. I wanted certainty.

Instead, what I received was something else.

This was not a declaration of outcome.

It was a reminder of presence.

When I asked for a sign, I did not receive certainty. I received companionship, a sense of being walked alongside.

The vertical line of the rainbow mirrored that feeling. It was not leading me forward or promising what comes next. It was simply staying with me in the middle of not knowing.

This week, I am undergoing several tests to see if the tumor is gone or has shrunk. The results will determine the next phase of my life this year. If the tumor is not completely gone, I will move into four months of IV chemotherapy, every other week. If it is gone, I do not yet know what comes next, except that I may finally be able to turn my attention toward the breast cancer that has been waiting quietly in the background.

Everything feels suspended, and much of this is not mine to control.

This in between place reminds me that I am standing at a threshold of change.

Even here, without certainty, I can trust that I am loved and protected.

— Gina Baiamonte