my aunt Suzi's 21st birthday, which I believe cultivated an innate bond, a sewing of spirits of sorts. I don't know if the first memory I have of my aunt is eating copious amounts of her Easter colored M and Ms at her and my uncle's apartment by a lake near Minneapolis or riding her geo metro to visit my great-grandma, but one resounding (literally) memory I have is of my aunt softly humming,
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray..."
The sweet sound would usually convene at the height of my toddler tiredness as I struggled to hold back the tears forming is the corners of my almond shaped eyes. Although my aunt sang the song to me, she has long been my sunshine.
Sometime in high school, Suzi and I started an e-mail correspondence. I would unload cathedrals of words regarding disputes with friends, boyfriends, my parents, anything. She would always respond with grace. Through these e-mails, she consistently encouraged me make choices that I was secure in, choices that made me feel most like the "unique Natalie" I sought to be, choices that would be make me sunny.
My freshman year of college, I drove through the night from Oklahoma to Minneapolis for Spring break. At 4 in the morning, still 40 minutes away from my destination, my aunt called to check on me. After she repeatedly asked me if I needed her to come meet me somewhere, she ensured I had the correct directions to the house. Upon my arrival, she shuffled my barely awake self into an already made bed. Although I drove through the night, every time my aunt called, simply knowing she was waiting for me, I felt as if the sun was fueling me, my own little sun.
My aunt has been my sun through breakups and moves, college stress, new loves, and adventures. Since the love blog started, she's commented on (I think) every post, encouraging me, even when I've felt so insecure about sharing my story.
Our sewed spirits sing solely because she is my sun. My aunt has taught me that love is being light.
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