Tim Hargis

Me and my sunshine—otherwise known as my Aunt Kay—eating dinner together this summer.

As we grow older, everyone will be telling their tales of triumph and defeat, of enamored passion and devastating heartbreak. They will recount their adventures filled with action and magic, with princesses in towers and knights in shining armor.

I, however, have a story much grander than the rest.

I will be telling the story of my sunshine.

I don’t see my sunshine very often. She lives quite far away. In the years that we are states apart, I have no other option than to tightly grasp onto the memory of a glowing warmth that makes every inch of me smile.

The first memories I have with my sunshine are some of my most prized possessions. Together, we ate chocolate fudge on the top of Mount Lemmon, and I saw my first cacti that were ten times my size.

Every few years my sunshine and I reunite, and the dull haze that surrounds me evaporates before I can blink an eye. This summer, she and I met once again after five years of separation, and something inside of me clicked.

I didn’t realize how much I missed my sunshine until I saw her waiting at the door.

Though my smile was as wide as I could stretch it, a lump the size of an apple began to form in my throat. I was quickly blinking back the salty tears that were pooling in my eyes. I didn’t want anyone in my family to see me break down in tears, but that was all I wanted to do at that moment. My heart was so full for the first time in five years—I simply didn’t know how to handle it. 

Every ounce of myself feels as if it is glowing when I am with my sunshine. Even the simple act of sitting on the couch filled me with an insurmountable amount of joy that I could not obtain anywhere else. Without even trying, she looks at me with so much love that I am overwhelmed with gratitude to have someone so kind and tender always in my life. 

Each day I spent with my sunshine this summer is a day I will never forget. We did ordinary activities together, and our conversations were my favorite. I try to remember everything that she says to me because each word she speaks is packed with wisdom I will never have.

The night before her flight back home, when she was saying goodbye to me, she said I would go on to accomplish many great things.

I believe her, too. She looked me in the eyes with such sincerity that I had no other option than to believe her. 

She then pulled me into a tight embrace that I never wanted to end. Her hugs are some of my favorite hugs. They’re so warm; she is so warm. Yet sadly, her flight was early, and she needed her rest, so my sunshine had to let go. The apple-sized lump made its valiant return to my throat, and the salty tears pooled back up in my eyes again. Some even managed to escape down my cheek before I could blink them all back.

Saying goodbye to her was the moment I was dreading the entire week we were together. I didn’t want the dull haze to return and cloud my vision.

But here is my favorite part about my sunshine: she is never really away. She and I share the same sky. She is always beating down on my youthful skin, constantly in need of her love to carry on each day.

I will tell these very same stories to anyone who will listen. I will tell them with the same sincerity she gave me that night how much I love my sunshine.

I love her warmth and her kindness.

I love her hugs and her words.

I love my Aunt Kay.