It was a wet Sunday afternoon when my husband and I were driving his daughter, Samantha, home after our visitation. It wasn’t the most fun visit. It’s not easy to entertain a 12-year-old you only see twice a month. The things Sam enjoyed doing when she was younger, like crafts, games, and baking unusual treats, no longer appealed to her. Her days were filled with the newest music, the Internet and texting friends on her cell phone.

Sam was 7-years-old when her father and I started dating. I always thought I would be a fun step-mom. The things that excited me as a child, like cotton candy, fairs, games, sidewalk chalk and Easter baskets, still excite me as an adult. I enjoy going to amusement parks, playing Frisbee in the backyard, blowing bubbles and having water balloon fights. I looked forward to sharing these moments with Sam.

But Sam never was an ordinary child. She always came off to me as an adult stuck in a child’s body just waiting to grow up and get on with it. The only toys I ever remember her playing with were the Bratz Dolls and Game Boy and even that didn’t last very long. Shopping for gifts for her has always been difficult and trying to garner interest in activities such as fairs, miniature golf or haunted houses is even harder.

Many times our conversations revolved around decorating or cooking. Things kids her age should have no interest in.

One visit proved uneventful in trying to plan fun trips for summer:

“Any where you want to go this summer?”

“No.”

“How about the zoo? They have polar bears now.”

“No.”

“What about seeing the dinosaurs at the museum?”

“No.”

“Any movies coming out you want to see?”

“Not really.”

She seemed to be growing up much faster than I did at her age. Even talking to her was becoming more difficult, but I am convinced that somewhere inside that pre-teen is a child who secretly longs to come out.

After a very boring day at our house where my husband and I failed miserably at entertaining her, and where she spent the day picking nail polish off of her finger nails, I caught a fleeting glimpse of that hidden child.

“Look, a rainbow!”

I didn’t think I actually heard her until my husband confirmed it.

There, high in the sky was the most vivid rainbow I had ever seen. And in the backseat was a little girl in awe.

We chased that rainbow all the way to Sam’s house. I took out my cell phone and snapped pictures and my husband joked about a pot of gold. Sam laughed. I was quite surprised when we pulled onto her road and realized the complete rainbow from start to finish was in the field across the street from her house.

“You’ll be able to see it from your deck,” I told her.

“Cool!” she answered enthusiastically.

We pulled into her driveway. Sam climbed out of the car, said good-bye seriously and slammed the door. She hurried to the house without looking back. I realized with a sigh the child was gone.

Photo by Per Ola Wiberg ~ Powi