The day will laugh again. I've seen it.

I found the end of the rainbow. It's outside the FedEx office in Kampala. It ends exactly on a curb that runs through the parking lot, a curb that is appropriately painted gold.

I was sitting in the FedEx office working on the various forms the manager had laid in front of me when a massive boulder, perhaps even a good portion of a mountain, crashed on the street outside. The sound exploded through the office. I looked out to see a cloud, no doubt the dust cloud or the volcanic ash, billowing into the hot blue sky, taking over the day.

I looked back to my forms. Kept writing.

The next time I looked up the sky was split evenly between night and day, a border line clearly marked but the former slowly swallowing the latter. But day was having its laugh, turning night's drops of darkness into golden sparks showering on the parking lot. They shimmered and shone as they fell, coating the lot in an undulating daylight of gold. And more, much more, the day was confidently (almost nonchalantly) holding its most spectacular display deep in night's territory.

A rainbow, large and round, almost a full circle, and infuriating to night because the rainbow is only possible on night's advance, as if a sign that day will surely overcome in the end.

The rainbow was big enough to fly a small airplane through and close enough to throw a rock at. And it came to an end on the golden curb, which curved from the night into the day.