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We often feel like we’re all alone when we’re driving by ourselves down a highway, insulated in our own vehicles. But we’re not. Not really.

Like the other morning when I was heading south on 71, and all the traffic slowed. Was it an accident, a stalled car, construction that was linking our rush hour fates?

It was not. What caused the braking of all these vehicles was a multicolored rainbow that arched from the left, fading a bit as it made its way across the sky.

I was so happy to see it. It was a magical moment, but here I was on the highway. There was no time to stop and gaze at it. Like my fellow drivers, however, I could slow down. In fact, I had to.

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw a rainbow. I searched my memory, but came up empty, except for the vision of Judy Garland singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” So I sang it myself. And then I wondered how many other people in this long parade of slowed automobiles might be singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow” too.

There was no way to know, of course. But as I watched the last seconds of our rainbow before it disappeared from view, I smiled at this reminder that we’re connected with a myriad of strangers in a myriad of ways, including rainbows: a brilliant spectrum of colors that we only briefly get to share.