It’s a celebration, a love song, a lament, a lullaby, a singalong, a weeping, a rejoicing, heartwarming, and heartbreaking all at the same time. It is a song written in the 1930s long before I was born and has been timeless ever since, and much like its name, it continues to shine.

I first heard it when I was a child and my grandfather would strum his guitar and sing it to me, smiling. He was so handsome; his skin was soft, his hair white and slicked into a pompadour, and he smelled like Old Spice. When he sang that song to me, I truly felt like I WAS his sunshine.

In elementary school, it was the first time I experienced singing in a choir. The auditorium we practiced in allowed my small class to sound as though we were a thousand voices and also created a much tighter harmony in my ears somehow.

As I grew up, I heard it in movies. Most of those flicks were the kind set in the 30s or 40s in the back woods of some southern town with a pretty, barefoot, and scraggly-haired girl walking away down a dirt road toward a woven overhang of oak trees in the distance. Her cream-colored dress would be sprayed with little yellow daisies, blowing in the warm breeze and emphasizing that they didn’t wear slips back then. There would be a film that had a pie cooling on the windowsill of an old farmhouse, or one with a group of sisters sitting on the front porch swing and cascading down the porch steps as the sun was setting, sounding like an ensemble of songbirds as they crooned the song together to the sound of an old banjo.

Many times during my childhood - and up to this very day - I loved to sit outside on a sunny day, hearing the trees rustle and perhaps the sound of a droning airplane far into the sky, looking at the clouds and hearing that very tune ring in my mind. There is something about it that brings an intrinsic peace and internal joy, but also a melancholy feel and grave consciousness; a juxtaposition much like the song itself.

To impress The Hubster with my gifts and talents and prove I was a songstress, I would sing it from time to time when we were courting. It wasn’t often, but it was during specific times of camping or at the lake, or maybe just a forlorn, rainy day that I would impress upon him that he was, indeed, My Sunshine and that he made me extremely happy; especially when skies were grey.

When my children were babies, I would rock them in my arms and quietly sing it to them, professing my maternal love verse after verse, chorus after chorus, until their eyelids would slowly blink, and they closed in slumber. I would still lightly hum it as I transferred them from my arms to their crib so as not to wake them. I would hum it as I tiptoed backward out of the room, making my voice do the old-fashioned fade out, shutting off the light with a soft smile.

As The DAUGHTS grew and we realized she had the gift of song, we would often harmonize it at family events, with everyone gathered around to hear us sing to-and-with each other. As we reached the end they would burst into applause as my heart burst with delight.

It was the song I sang in agony the day The Middle Little was curled on his side in a hospital bed, his back to me and his knees lifted to his tummy as the needle went into his spine over and over again for the lumbar puncture. I stroked his curls and sang with intention so he wouldn’t hear in my voice the tears that were flowing down my cheeks.

The Kid would hear it when he was watching me cook. He would ask questions about what meal I was creating, tell me I was such a “good cooker”, and ask me to sing that song about the sun shining. I was impressed at his request nearly every time and would love to watch him lay his arms from his elbows to his hands on the counter, intertwine his fingers and rest his head on them, close his eyes, and rock his head back and forth as I sang. It made me feel somewhat nostalgic and sorrowful, even in those moments of happiness, knowing he was the baby of the bunch, and we were watching them all grow into adults so quickly it made our hearts spin.

Now The Grittles hear the song all the time. Not only from me but from their Momma, who remembers HER Momma singing it when she was a child. The song makes them feel a bit of wonderment, listening to the rich sound of her serenading them and then sharing the memories of how SheShe would sing it to her, and with her when she was their age.

It’s a warming sound of lyrics set to a sweet melody that is imaginable and akin to life itself: it’s a celebration, a love song, a lament, a lullaby, a singalong, a weeping, a rejoicing, heartwarming, and heartbreaking all at the same time. It is a song written in my heart and kept in the vault of my existence. It’s a part of my legacy that has been timeless in my life, and much like its name…

…it continues to shine.