There we were, on Mass. St., doing Final Friday, which basically meant going art gallery to art gallery, snagging some chocolate (some even wine-infused), and being dazzled by new art or old friends. All was fun, whimsical, and there was ample color and light, especially since the holiday lights were strung in spirals up the streets. But so much more about about to come when Ken lifted up from the sidewalk a pair of magic rainbow glasses.
Leftover from a dance performance (just held outside with the dancers wearing lights and the audience wearing magic rainbow glasses), this new find transformed light as I knew it. I put it on, and walked down the street, holding onto Ken’s hand so I didn’t fall over into a pool of rainbow glimmer extravaganza. Everywhere I looked, the whiteness of light was broken down into ripples of rainbow. The trees dressed in red and blue lights looked like they wore millions of criss-crosses of all colors. The street light was a miracle. “I’m sure that’s God,” I told Ken as I watched an infinity of rainbow shooting out all directions.
We met some friends on the street and let them try on the glasses. Ted said it was wonderful, and the trick was to still see these colors without the glasses. Natalie, as soon I got in the car, still wearing the glasses so I could be floored with rainbow beauty all the way home, proclaimed she had never been so embarrassed, both her parents acting like they were drugs as they trudged down the street, trading these glasses back and forth, yelling, “Oh my god!” and giggling.