You are my sunshine


You are my sunshine.

What is it about the sign that rests above my closet frame? 

It’s hideous, truly. It’s fake, multi-colored gems and ugly, cobalt blue clashes with my loud teal walls. The mustard yellow swirls with uneven flowers in between scream early 2000’s bedroom. “You are my sunshine” is written in a weird, purple, Comic Sans-type font. Tacky, but it means too much to me. 

Why did I keep it? What is so salient about that sign? Was sentimentality the reason I saved it seven years ago? Why did my young self want it—was there a real need?

You are my sunshine.

The sign once hung in my brother and I’s old bedroom. Our childhood bedroom had white walls and hardwood floors. I sometimes look up my old address just to see what it looks like now. The pictures of the old interior are all I see–no updates or anything remotely new. I see the same furniture, candles, picture frames, and the unstable shelves—now in my mom’s office—that feel like they will collapse, even with the littlest pressure applied. There is one picture of my old bedroom. It is of my side of the room—despite the Hello Kitty and princess posters, the sign is there, in the middle of everything. 

It has seen us.

My brother and I have our rooms now. No more privacy issues or fighting over closet space. The sign saw my brother grow up, but not as much as me. 

“You are my sunshine” has followed me—grown with me—throughout the years. It has seen every home, room color, room layout, window view, and everything in between. It has seen all the friends I’ve had over to my house and every stressful homework night. It has seen my good times and my bad.

It has seen me. 

Now, a few gems have fallen off from being thrown into boxes and stowed away in the deep corners of my closet. Scratches and dents are evident, mainly on the backside. The wood beneath is visible—some areas more than others. If looked at it close enough, a few drops of lighter color paint are noticeable. I’m not sure how the spots got there—it most likely happened when a project went wrong. 

You are my sunshine.

The sign still sits on my closet door frame, untouched after all these years. Nothing about it has changed, aside from a gem that falls off now and then. The sign reminds me of purity—purity in childhood. It’s a reminder, to me, to remember the good moments as I—we—continue to grow.