Not-so-Little Miss Sunshine

"You are my sunshine, 

my only sunshine, 
you make me happy when skies are gray,
you never know dear how much I love you,
please don't take my sunshine away."

It was 2002, I was sitting next to my dad, having a slice of bread with meises, on his old 1992 Black Katana Jimny car on our way to school, listening to Johnny Cash along with dad's classic album of Elvis Presley that he kept in a box next to his gear lever. Dad, hummed to the song as he couldn't remember clearly the lyrics, except the last part. 

"Please don't take my sunshine away.." I sang, mimicking Cash's vibration, Dad chuckled. 

Sunshine. 

I always love the word sunshine. I almost forgot that I have associated a lot with the word "sun".

I grew up reading Little Miss Sunshine by Roger Hargreaves (though now I'm more of a bit like Little Miss Chatterbox!). I watch too much Little Miss Sunshine (until now), thinking I was Olive Hoover, having a grumpy brother, supportive mom, domineering dad, and weird grandpa. Summed up my whole life!

Cleo, my best friend, who always took random sunflower pictures for me on her first weeks moving to Hamburg from Jakarta. 

Oh, also, the yellow decoration in any corners of my bedroom. Van Gogh's sunflower replica painting I bought two years ago in Amsterdam. David's sunflower pot. A bouquet of sunflowers on my birthday.

What else?

Me.

It's 2023, I am my dad's sunshine.

Not until now I realized that what he meant by sunshine is, the adjective. Not noun.

I've been overblown by living under the gray sky, I forgot to let my sun shine.. 

Not until my friend, Tosé, texted me the other day in the morning. "Good morning, Sunshine."

A simple text, yet impactful.

He reminds me again to be the sunshine of my own.