You Are My Sunshine

Amidst the deep despair and anxiety of this week, this moment was such a gift. I had dinner with my Mom last night and as we had post-dinner tea, she shared her new hobby with me: ukulele. She is learning in a group at her church and while she played, I sat there with my hands on my face, mouth hanging open, squealing in surprise and delight.

My mom was the reason I started playing violin back in third grade. She played piano and when she was in nursing school she saved up to buy a violin but never got a chance to learn how to play it after she got married and started having kids. When I grew to be able to handle a full-sized violin (6th grade, I think), she passed her violin on to me and that was the instrument that I spent countless hours with over the next many years, vying for spots in competitive orchestras, playing solo recitals in college, and officially becoming what I call "semi-pro" -- the last time I played with any regularity was as a member of the Kingston Symphony Orchestra when I was working on my Ph.D. (I had to join a union to do so).

Watching my 84-year-old mother play even just for a few minutes was a reminder of the power of curiosity and connecting with joyful things -- however briefly -- especially in deeply troubling times. I think it was the first time I laughed and smiled all week.

When I texted to ask for my Mom's permission to share this photo, she said yes, and that someday, she would play "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine."

Thank you, Mom, for always being the light.