You Are my Sunshine

Today in urgent care I watched my little guy try to stay still as they stuck a needle in his wound (near his eye) to numb it. Doesn't that sentence make you cringe?
I wanted to. But I also didn't want him to see me cringe, so I didn't.

Tattooed on the arm of the nurse who was helping hold him was, "You are my sunshine."  Lovely black script running down her forearm. THIS SONG was my mom's top pick lullaby of my childhood, my toddlerhood, and probably my infancy as well.

Missing my mom, it turns out, never goes away. It is imbedded into every moment of my life like a new rhythm of my heartbeat. So when I saw that song title, and thought of my mom, it calmed me in a moment when I was supposed to step up and be the adult. No casting about for support on this one: I've got a kiddo whose wide eyes are seeking mine and he's looking for something sure. Something steady. Somebody who can assure him that he can get through this scary thing. Micah was a super trooper. He always is on the big stuff. As he enjoyed pointing out afterward, "I've had more medical attention than my brother and sister combined."

Afterward, the PA said to me out of the blue, "You're a good mom. We can always tell when the kids can stay calm it's because their parents are calm. That helps a lot."

It wasn't me, I wanted to tell him. My mom could make me feel that I was as welcome as sunshine. As important as sunshine. As cherished as sunshine. A love like that still steadies me long after she's gone away.