A Mother’s Coping Mechanism: “I Put the Sun in Me”

In the world of words and ideas in which I swim, occasionally I will hear or read a line that pierces through me.

I heard one yesterday.

I speak to my mother, who lives in Montreal, pretty much every day. Among our many subjects — family, food, virus, food, food, family, etc. — is, of course, the weather.

My mother loves the sun. It reminds her of growing up in beautiful, sunny Casablanca. Living through frigid Canadian winters for so long has only reinforced that love.

Invariably, during our chats I will ask her if the sun is out. Yesterday, the sun was definitely not out. So, perhaps to make me feel better and keep the conversation upbeat, she blurted out (translated from French):

“I put the sun in me.”

There was something awkward about the phrase, which is perhaps why it caught my attention. She didn’t use the cliché of “I’m grateful for life’s blessings,” which she often does. This time, she pushed the envelope and put a great big ball of warmth and light inside of her.

Maybe it was her way of saying, “Life in quarantine can get pretty lonely for an 87-year-old great grandmother. When the sun is out, it really boosts my day. But today there is no sun, and I don’t want to feel down. So I need to find another way. I will put the sun in me.”

The very act of saying that line put the “sun” inside our conversation and kept it upbeat.

The very act of saying that line put the “sun” inside our conversation and kept it upbeat. It also probably guided her day to look for “sunny” things to do and think about.

The sun shines almost every day in Los Angeles. I rarely ever need to put the “sun in me.” But I wonder: Whose sun shines brighter?