Five Minute Friday Sunshine

           My Dad has nicknamed my youngest child “Sunshine.” She reminds me to slow down and smell flowers, literally, and she likes to take pictures of them too. Her eldest sibling inspires me to try new things, and she challenges me to broaden my perspective. Their brother teaches me something new daily, and asks his teachers when they are going to learn about higher level science topics such as physics. My children truly are my sunshine on a cloudy day. They are my laughter and dancing. My art and the music in my home. Right now, they are on the other side of the country visiting their Dad during Summer break. I hope that they each realize how much joy they bring to my life. I will close with the classic song, “My Girl”, but I feel this way about all of my kids nor just my girls. Do you have someone in your life that reminds you of sunshine?






Comments

  1. I think my daughter is my sunshine person - and I did sing that little song "You Are My Sunshine" to her when she was very young. Just as my Grandpa and my aunt used to sing it to me. Good memories. Visiting from FMF#8

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  2. I like your post. My sunshine person isn't alive anymore but I'll see her in heaven. I never actually met her, she lived on the other side of the world, but I knew her for 22 years and we talked every day. We prayed together, and I could tell her anything. She loved nature, she used to stand by the open window in the early morning, so I could hear the birds singing... different birds from those I have here. She was so totally full of life, enthusiastic, curious, and such a lot of fun. I miss her. I would like to be a sunshine person for someone else, I hope I am. Have a blessed day.

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  3. I'd like to be called Sunshine,
    but things are as I've feared,
    and nickname 'Moonbeam' is mine,
    because I'm really weird.
    Some think that I am always stoned
    because of concepts I don't get,
    but I have never ever owned
    a marijuana cigarette.
    I wander like a Labrador
    through a life that treats me well,
    scratching at each open door,
    and closing eyes to smell
    the beauty of each blooming rose
    whose thorns prick my inquiring nose.

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